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A .. 



j TRUE LOVE 

i- 

AXD ITS 

■d 

CONSEQUENCES 

BY 

/ 

.TAMKB TTOAVAKITR. 

»\ 



4 

' Lei me sigh at the same time my sufferings and my pleasures . — 

, Moni ESQUiHU ; Tetnple of Guide. 

at 

That death's unnatural that kills fm- laving . — Shakesi'ERK; Othello. 



Traynor^s Publishing and Printing House. 
M DCCC XX XI. I. 


r 



Entered^ according to Act of Congress, in the year 1880, by 

X3X>'W.^f<.X>S^ 

in the Librarian' s Office, at Washington, D. C. 


!if*l a i! ji 11 Til 



TRUE LOVE 

-A^nsriD ITS 

CONSEQUENCES. 


CHAPTER FIRST. 

The Boulevard des Italiens and its frequenters. — Lucien de 
Varny; his character and relations. — Uncle and Nephew. — 
A curious book. — Lucien accepts an office; causes of his de- 
cision. — From Paris to Naples. — The broken axle-tree. — 
The Arms of England Inn. 

S O one who frequented the Boulevard des 
Italiens was unacquainted with Lucien de 
Yarny. Of all those who made its small arcades 
and the passage to the Opera their daily promen- 
ade, he was certainly the most regular ; while the 
frequenters of those places where the fashionable 
idlers of Paris assembled together, were always 
ready to salute him whenever they met him, 
which was generally three or four times a day. 

A kind of occult comradery unites all those 
promenaders who compose what one of the most 


6 


remarkable Frencli novelists — Henry Mnrger — 
calls, in his picturesque language, the BoJieme 
de Paris^ men of all kinds and of all condi- 
tions, poor and rich, noble and plebeian, journa- 
lists and scions of family, artists and dandies, 
amongst whom are found a great number of 
swindlers with curled moustaches, who live by 
means best known to themselves. 

Some of them have eaten up their patrimony, 
the majority never possessed any ; however, all 
dine every day, often take their supper, and sleep 
somewhere — at home if they have one, if not, 
elsewhere. They do nothing or very little; their 
principal business is to walk, coming one can- 
not say whence, going to the devil if he wants 
them. 

Amongst the number of those peoples whom 
we would willingly call sharpers, — if the French 
language has not become too polite to call any- 
thing by its proper name,— we count some who 
have practiced this easy trade since the First 
Empire. They gayly wear their gray whiskers 
cut in the latest style; they set their hats on one 
ear, stretch out their legs and smartly exchange 
a smile or a glance with the ladies who turn the 
corner of rues Lepelletier and Grange Bateliere, 
these two opera boundaries. 


7 


Not that amongst those citizen-like condot- 
tieri of our very constitutional monarchy, (1) 
we cannot find some very good young men full 
of loyalty ; but, to speak truly, they are not in 
the majority in this Boheme^ which would lose 
its originality if it lost its doubtful virtue. 
Lucien de Yarny had, amongst those people, a 
remarkable number of fellows with whom he 
shook hands. He would, however, have been 
much perplexed to tell how he became ac- 
quainted with them ; but Paris is certainly the 
city where little attention is paid to this sort of 
thing : this is, without any doubt, the cause of 
the indifiPerence which every one there exhibits 
for the origin of his acquaintanceships. 

Regularly, no matter what the weather or 
season, Lucien walked, — on the boulevard if 
the weather was fine, in the arcades, if it was 
raining, from two to six o’ clock in the afternoon, 
and very often in the evening till midnight. He 
did not himself pay any attention to the motive 
which brought him so constantly to this place, 
but he found a singular pleasure in leading a 
life that could produce nothing for him. 

With his hands philosophically hidden in 
the pockets of his Cossack pantaloons, smoking 

1. Epoch of the reign of H. M. Louis Philippe I. 


8 


a cigar, and leaving liis eyes and thoughts to 
float at random, he appeared to be the most 
sedate and thoughtful person in the world. 

But a few years had elapsed since the death 
of his father and mother, leaving him heir to 
a fortune of six thousand francs per annum, 
upon which he lived. 

With such a sum, when one does not work, 
and especially — as was the case with Lucien — 
when a taste for elegant things and for distinc- 
tion has been acquired, it could not be expected 
that he would always succeed in making his in- 
come last till the end of the year. Indeed, 
Lucien, who had never learned to count, would 
often have found himself perplexed if he had 
not an honest uncle, living in the suburb of 
Saint-Germain, who came to his rescue and 
paid his deficits with a devotedness of which 
the young man kept a memorandum in his 
heart. 

This uncle, peer of France during the revolu- 
tion of July, tired of living alone in his de Var- 
ennes street hotels had often urged Lucien to 
come and live with him; but as Lucien could not 
bring hmself to cross the bridges, he had ever 
refused him under a thousand excuses. The 
good-natured man, already old and very rich. 


9 


was embarrassed how to expend his rents which 
had accnmnlated in his notary’ s hands, and to 
kill time, spent his days running to the past, 
present, and expectant future Minister. He 
knew better than the office boys all the cor- 
ridors of all the ministeries, and could call the 
bailiffs by their own names, which gave to him a 
certain kind of authority in the eyes of common 
petitioners. 

At such a trade, he had gained a certain influ- 
ence, into which the habit folks had of seeing him 
entered as a great haK : his title did the rest. 

M. de Yillaines would have much liked to 
use this influence in his nephew’s favor, whom 
he was anxious to put in an administrative or 
political career; but on that subject Lucien 
had never shown himself less unmanageable 
than on the one previously mentioned. 

Neither did marriage enter into Lucien’ s feel- 
ings; so that in the calm and easy existence of M. 
de Yillaines the young man’s prospect was the 
dark side, the black horizon point where the 
clouds were heaping up. Sometimes he spoke 
of this to his daughter, whom he had married to 
M. d’Astouans, referendary councilor to the 
Court of Accounts. 

Madame d’Astouans was sincerely fond of 


10 


lier cousin, who paid her back heartily and who 
frequently saw her, being in the vicinity, for she 
lived in the rue Basse-dn-Rampart and he, in 
the N‘enve-des-Mathnrins. It was even said 
that if Lncien wanted to submit himself to the 
tastes of his uncle, his cousin Henriette would 
have became Madame de Yarny, and he was 
much blamed by a certain circle of people for 
having let slip an occasion to solidly establish 
his fortune. But those ideas did not agree with 
Lncien’ s pride, which was repugnant to such 
kinds of speculation, and he would not engage 
in anything that was against his conscience or 
honor, even with the hope of obtaining all the 
treasures of Peru. IS'either had he ever taken 
the least trouble to divert towards an illegiti- 
mate love the tender friendship that his charm- 
ing cousin evinced for him. On the contrary, 
he had sincerely congratulated M. de Yillaines 
for having chosen M. d’Astouans for his son-in- 
law. 

Lncien possessed, except one, all the quali- 
ties which command success ; without being a 
handsome man, he was happy enough to please 
at first sight ; his agreeable manners, and his 
uniform temper completed what the physiog- 
nomy had commenced ; he had sufiicient wit to 


11 


converse with all persons without wounding the 
feelings of any; intelligence enough to under- 
stand what he did not learn. Regarding his cour- 
age, he had proved in several instances that he 
was not devoid of it, and the ladies, who are the 
best judges in such matters, were not unappre- 
ciative: so he was loved generally without 
having given any sign that he would take ad- 
vantage of it. He was in all respects, very much 
reserved ; but we must confess that aside from 
feeling of the heart, his discretion was nothing 
else than indifference ; he would forget the day 
after what had been told him the eve before. 

When to these qualities we join the custom 
to never refuse a pleasure party, a country jaunt, 
or a supper, to have always fifty or a hundred 
francs to throw into the purse which a good 
adventure or carnival has emptied, to cheerily 
support the pleasantries of the most dreary des- 
serts and hear without impatience the most 
extravagant stories, should they be as long as 
those of Schereazade, he could not but have 
friends. With a little energy, Lucien would 
have been able to make steps of all the shoulders 
that surrounded him, and there is no saying to 
what point he would have reached ; but this was 
exactly the quality of which he was deficient. 


12 


And however, strange as it may appear in 
the midst of such an existence, Lucien was not 
known as having a frivolous mind. Some grave 
personages with whom he had talked of serious 
matters and of certain questions then current, 
were pleased to discover in him a great in- 
telligence of things and a singular facility of 
adapting himself to the rudiments of science 
and to the solution of problems that he had least 
studied. In these circumstances, he developed 
great resources, we should say spontaneously, 
and he gave proof of a ready wit rightly helped 
by a wonderful flow of language. We must 
also state that those faculties were strongly 
aided by a remarkable memory ; it was suffi- 
cient for him to read a book or to hear a demon- 
stration to retain the substance of it, and occa- 
sionally, the full recollection of these readings 
and conversations would come to him. But 
Lucien did not like discussions, and, oftentimes, 
he resigned himself indifferently to them, and 
this indifference was to his intellect what the 
shell is to the turtle, an invulnerable armor. 

When M. de Yillaines met his nephew either 
on the boulevard or at a ball, he seized him by 
the arm and submitted him to a conversation that 
Lucien endured with a marvelous resignation.] 


13 


‘‘Let iis see, Lncien,’’ said the uncle, “what 
have you done since I saw you?” 

“I have been walking,” said|the nephew. 

“ That is not an occupation ! ” 

“It is a more serious one than you think; it 
lakes up all my time.” 

“You will never change then ? ” 

“ I am too much afraid to lose.” 

“Have you considered the proposition I 
have made to you ? The minister is very much 
inclined in your favor, and, by my influence, 
you can have your name to-morrow in the 
•columns of the Moniteur^ if you so desire.” 

“ God preserve me from it ! I prefer to be 
•elsewhere ; here, for example.” 

“But consider, Lucien, that you may be 
able to reach everything.'’^ 

“I prefer to reach nothing; this comes al- 
most to the same thing and gives less trouble.” 

“Undoubtedly; but when age will come, you 
will perhaps think as I do.” 

“Then I will act like you. Let us wait 
till that time. Besides you know; that if I ac- 
cepted an office I should try to perform its 
■duties better than anybody else. I have some 
principles on that subject that nothing can 
Tary ; I don’t know if I am inspired by them 


14 


througli a consciousness of duty or by self-! 
love, but I must say that I have them. Now, 
to strictly fulfil such a charge, no matter of 
how little importance, would require too much 
time and care. That is why I do not like to do j 
anything.” j 

“You have no end in view, then ? Nothing ^ 
you wish to gain ? ” 

“What is the use, when we have not had 
any beginning?” 

“Be reasonable, my friend.” 

“It is because I have too much sense that I 
am nothing. Fools work ; the wise look on ! ” 

“You might get married, at least.” 

“What necessity is there for two to get 
weary ? Is there not already too much of this 
lonely ennui .^” 

“But, my friend, you would never become 
tired of a woman whom you loved.” 

“That would be worse again. I have still 
my own theory of love. I would shrink from 
a wife that I did not love, and if I loved her, 
this affection would absorb my whole life. 
Genius struggles with love, and its power is 
exalted by the ardor of the passion ; I have the 
misfortune or the happiness, whichever you 
may like to term it, to be but a very ordinary 


15 


man; so my individuality would be annihilated 
jin this feeling.” 

! ‘‘Henriette thinks however that you are 
' wrong in remaining unmarried.” 

‘‘If. I was M. d’Astouans I would say that 
Madam was right.” 

“So you won’t make any decision?”. 

“On the contrary, uncle, I am making a 
hook, said Lucien,” laughing this time. 

“Ah!” 

! “A book wherein I prove the inutility of 
I labor.” 

. “If you are as well qualified in theory as in 
[practice, it will be a successful book.” 

. “It will be finished the day after my 
'death.” 

“ You are a fool! ” 

; “The world has ever slandered philoso- 
phers.” 

For four or five years, uncle and nephew fre- 
quently conversed on such themes, Madame d’ 
Astouans sometimes taking part, and often she 
I would close the discussion by laughing with 
her cousin, whom she carried away with her to 
the Bois de Boulogne^ or to the Theatre des 
Italiens. 

However, as there is no power that patience 


16 


may not control, no obstacle that it will not 
find an opportunity to overcome, it happened 
one day that M. de Yillaines came near swoon- 
ing for joy, on hearing Lncien de Yarny say 
that he would accept an ofiice proposed to him. 
The excellent peer of France could not be- 
lieve it ; he filing himself on his nephew’ s neck, 
nearly suffocating him with his embraces, and 
to prevent him reconsidering his decision, he 
obliged Lucien to give him his word, without 
troubling himself as to the motives which had 
induced him to say yes. 

These motives were, nevertheless, curious 
enough to be given. Madam d’Astouans was 
less discreet or less prudent than her father, 
and she asked her cousin for his reasons, who 
told them to her ingeniously. 

It was the time when the Parisian edileship, 
caught unawares by the craze for improve- 
ment which affects all municipal administra- 
tions, resolved to improve the Boulevard Ita- 
lien by levelling and laying down a new system 
of pavement ; this in the meantime blocked up 
the side-streets, opened some quagmires under 
the walkers’ feet and raised barricades between 
their legs. To complete Lucien’ s misfortunes, 
the workmen had invaded the two acades for 


17 


the Opera’s passages, in order to lay there cer- 
tain gas and water pipes in which they were 
experimenting. 

For a month, boulevard and passage were 
impracticable, and he could not endure it any 
longer. Interrupted in his custom walk, pro- 
voked in his affections, he had abruptly de- 
cided to quit the city, judging it would be alike 
indifferent to him whether he suffered in Paris 
or elsewhere. 

The office proposed to him was the secre- 
taryship to the embassy at Naples. M. de 
Yillaines tore it from the minister, passing vali- 
antly over the bodies of three deputies who 
were eager to get it for their sons, and of five 
diplomatists who were asking it for themselves. 

There was great surprise and no little ex- 
citement amongst the Boheme of the Boulevard 
Italien when they learned that Lucien would 
go. Several of the members refused to believe 
it ; the most sceptical betting five to one tha t 
the thing was utterly impossible ; the others 
were content to laugh at it, and Lucien had 
some difficulty in convincing the most moderate 
of the truth of the intended journey. 

The Moniteur in its official columns gave 
the last stroke to the unbelievers, but the day 


18 


when the young secretary went to take the 
oath at the Tuileries, he was probably more 
astonished than any one else. 

‘‘ I dream ! ” said he, looking at his embroi- 
dered clothes. 

“]^o, indeed not!” hastily answered M. 
de Yillaines, who was overlooking him sharply, 
afraid that he might escape from him. ‘‘You 
understand at last the necessities of our social 
order ; you have come to agree with my wise 
observations ; you will conquer a place amongst 
your fellow-citizens ; you will render yourself 
useful to the public ; make your name illustri- 
ous by an honorable employment of your men- 
tal faculties, and take your part of labor in 
the social work.” 

Lucien remained stunned on hearing this 
speech : he could not believe that he could ever 
desire or accomplish so much. But during his 
uncle’s remarks, a thought crossed his mind. 

“It seems to me, uncle,” said he, without 
employing any periphrasis, — which proved at 
once that he was taking his place in the cate- 
gory of diplomatists who believe that the right 
line is the shorter way from a negotiation to a 
treaty “ it seems to me, that I won’t be able 
to cut a very fine figure, in Naples, with my six 


19 


thousand francs income, even increasing it with 
my secretary’s salary.” 

“What are you saying of six thousand 
francs ! ” e:?claimed the peer of France with 
indignation ; “ you will have twelve ! twenty ! 
thirty ! as much as you want ; you can draw on 
me as on a target ; my pocketbook is there to 
receive the blows. A secretary of embassy 
who is my nephew will never be short for any- 
thing ! ” 

“ However — ” 

“ Silence! I know too well what I owe to 
the king’s government and to our institu- 
tions.” 

Lucien had no right to oppose himself to the 
proofs of devotion that his uncle was willing 
to give to the king’s government and institu- 
tions. He therefore resigned himself and left 
for Naples one beautiful morning. 

The highway surveyors’ agents of the Pari- 
sian edileship were going on to overthrow the 
boulevard. 

On Lucien’ s arrival at Marseilles, he devoted 
two hours to visit the curiosities of a town 
which has none ; and when the time expired, he 
learned that the steamer which was announced 
to make the trip to Italy and the Orient would 


20 


I 


not sail till the following day; he instantly re- i 
entered his carriage and decided to make the 
trip by land, perhaps because it was a longer 
and more expensive journey. Lucien abhorred 
cheap travel. Besides this, he did not like to 
run over the country, jumping from town to 
town, like stones that slide on the water, re- 
bounding from wave to wave. I 

Lucien crossed Italy royally, like an English- ' 
man, by traveling short days and sometimes, { 
going out of the way, to give a glance at towns 
and cities which displayed their spires away ] 
off in the distance. | 

He was only a short journey from Naples, 
when one of those accidents which the opera . 
libretti have so much abused, obliged him to 
stop in a small hamlet, the houses of which, \ 
wretched enough, were scattered on both sides j 
of the highway. The carriage axle-tree was j 
broken, and the blacksmith of the place wanted | 
three or four hours to put it in good order 
again. 

Lucien, who was in no hurry to reach Naples, 
stepped into an inn which was proudly exposing 
to the dust and the sun a sign that a Neapolitan i 
Raphael had painted with ochre, on a blue back- 
ground, a leopard endowed with dreadful claws 
and teeth, and beneath which was seen : ‘^Alle ! 
arme Ingliilter a. i 


Chaptee II. 


I 
!; 

At table, and what was said. — Eelation of the strange adven- 
ture of Don Hermenegildo Saria. — The joyous guests. — The 
American Charles Sheldon. — “You are mistaken, gentle- 
men.” — The presentation. — M. le marquis de Noirmoutiers. 
I — The marquis relates the finale of the Don Hermenegildo 

story. — The feuilletonist against his will. — The marquis’ fare- 
well. — Lucien continues the interrupted trip. — The carriage 
accident. 

OTJE or five young men of good appearance 
occupied the end of a table, around which. 
I sat a dusty and blustering company of waggon- 
i ers, monks and strolling virtuosi, each of whom 
I was eating out of a large earthen pan full of 
: macaroni. Lucien looked for a chair and a table ; 
[ but there was no other table, in the dining hall. 

( The young men pushed their chairs closer to- 
i gether and beckoned to him to come and sit 
I down by them. 

^ ‘‘There was no other choice; besides the 
: invitation was made with such delicacy and 
good nature, that Lucien accepted it without 
! hesitation. 

The discussion at the table was very ani- 
mated, and, from it, Lucien soon ascertained 
that he was in the company of gentlemen. The 
topic was an adventure that for the past eight 



22 


days had caused much excitement in Naples, 
and was the subject of general conversation. 
Lucien, who knew nothing about this story, 
and who desired to have an idea of what was 
happening in the city where accident had con- 
ducted him, while he swallowed some roasted 
becaticos and ravioli, listened with all attention 
to the words, which were whirled out with 
Italian volubility. 

‘^It is a strange adventure,’^ said a young 
man, with a fine modeled head, and beautiful 
black hair ; “it would remind one of romantic 
Spain ! ” 

“We will have to make our wills before we 
leave for a rendez-mus^ ” exclaimed the neigh- 
bor of the secretary ; “ my opinion is that it will 
be necessary to go to confession before we fall 
in love. ” 

“But to begin with, did she love him % ” 

‘ ‘ A queer question ! W ould she have left her 
blind open if she had not waited for him, and 
would she have waited for him if she had not 
loved him?” 

“That is no proof.” 

“It is a conclusive one for me. In matters 
of gallantry, the proverb that says we must 
never depend on appearances is wrong ; here. 


23 


ithe form is everything, substance amounts to 
nothing. ” 

“Pshaw! who can know when the love 
comedy began?” 

“No matter! I will acknowledge that any 
woman does not love me, provided that all 
make me believe it.” 

“But, gentlemen, this is not the question, 

’ said a jolly fellow with a red face. “ It is essen- 
tial to know what became of the unhappy Don 
Hermenegildo Saria. ” 

‘ ‘ He must be dead. It is not far from the sig- 
nora Theresa’ s balcony to the sea, said another 
who had scant whiskers in the Spanish style. ” 

“ Or else, the marquis has killed him ? 

“ Stabbed him ? ” 

‘ ‘ Assassinated him ? ’ ’ 

“And why not? After all it should be but 
; right. ” 

. “Right allows it perhaps, but politeness 
forbids it.” 

“ It is certain if husbands begin to play with 
; stiUetos, we have nothing left us but to take 
^ the cowl. ’ ’ 

“ Let us not be too pretentious. How many 
amongst us are there who would enter a monas- 
tery?” exclaimed the young man with Greek 
features. 


24 


‘‘Would it be in the Camaldules that Don 
Hermenegildo took refuge?” 

“We would know it ; and no one has seen 
him since the sixth of July. ” 

“Has anyone seen the marchioness since?” 
“ I have ! I have ! ” exclaimed four or five 
voices. ” 

“Pale, undoubtedly, the eyes wearied, the 
looks sorrowful, the forehead bowed as Tore- 
silla in Norma f ” 

“Not at all; but cheerful, lively, smiling 
and ever pretty as Stellita in II Barhiere. ” 

“Oh ! the women ! ” said a fair young man, 
casting a glance, gloomy as an elegy, towards 
the heavens. 

“Has any one spoken to her of her victim ? ” 
“I did, ” said a tall cavalier stroking a long 
whisker worn in the fashion of refined men at 
the time of the League. ‘ ‘ She laughed at me. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ However, she loved him ? ” 

“To tell you the truth, I don’t believe it. ” 
“He was followed her everywhere ! ” 

“He was her shadow ! ” 

“At the ball, in her loge^ out walking, be- 
neath her windows, whom would we see ? Him, 
him, always him ! ” 

“Then she did not love him. Happy men 


25 


are prudent, ” cried the young man with scant 
whiskers. 

“When they are not reckless, ” replied the 
long-haired cavalier, with a smile. 

“Does anybody know exactly how the thing 
happened ? I come from Capua where the story 
has been related to us in different ways by the 
officers of the Princess’s regiment,” said the 
young man with a fair complexion. 

‘ ‘ Here is the version which seems the most 
exact ; I got it from a St. January bell-ringer 
who is the lover of one of the maids of Madame 
de Noirmou tiers. You all know that, for seven 
or eight months past Don Hermenegildo Saria 
was paying assiduous attentions to the marchio- 
ness, ” replied the one whose beautiful head 
Lucien was admiring. 

“He was succeeding you, ” interrupted the 
big, stout young man. 

“And he was like me. Bouquets, sweet 
billets, sighs, serenades, were passed without be- 
ing remarked by the beautiful but unimpassion- 
able marchioness. However, Don Hermenegildo 
was persevering. ” 

“It is wonderful that she is not dead 
from it. ” 

“Tediousness does not kill ; at most it only 


26 


makes one sleepy. But wko has ever sounded 
this abyss that we call a woman’s heart ! Sud- 
denly, Madame de Noirmou tiers changed her 
attitude towards the Spaniard. Her brusque- 
ness became benevolence, her coolness amiabi- 
lity, her irony compassion. She had entered in 
the phase of pity. Then, one night— it happened 
about midnight — a man wrapped in a cloak 
glided into the garden where Madame de Noir- 
moutiers used to walk while Naples was asleep. 
This man jumped over the wall, opened a door 
of which he had the key, and climbed up a 
stair that led to the private apartments of the 
marchioness. Suddenly a light shines through 
the half-open windows ; a blind is hastily rais- 
ed, and a man — it was Don Hermenegildo — 
springs upon the balcony now flooded with a 
strong light ; a ladder falls ; he is about to dis- 
appear ; when he is seized by a hand and 
brought back into the room : the lamp extin- 
guished, some suppressed murmurs pass be- 
tween the lowered grooves of the blind ! — 
Desdemona was perhaps weeping at Othello’s 
feet. ” 

^‘Was he, then, the husband?” 

“ Undoubtedly ! the Beus ex macMna ” 

‘ ‘ Is this husband known ? ” 


27 


‘‘ Very little. I never saw him. ’’ 

‘‘Neither have I. He is eccentric; some- 
thing like a diplomatist grafted upon an anti- 
quary : he travels continually for the benefit of 
our gracious sovereign, and signs treaties while 
collecting old sous^ which are called medals in 
archeological jargon. ” 

“ It appears that on that night, the devil who 
served him in the capacity of coachman, had 
maliciously brought him back to his home. In 
the morning, a patrol passing under his garden 
wall, perceived the ladder against the balcony. 
The hotel was silent ; and since then, Don Her- 
menegildo has not been seen. His letters are wait- 
ing for him at a home where he has not re-ap- 
peared ; nobody has met him, and all search 
made to find him has been in vain. ’’ 

“The marquis must have buried him in his 
garden.” 

“ Or in one of his cellars. ” 

“Perhaps he has inclosed him alive in a 
cabinet of which he has walled the door ! Anti- 
quarians have ferocious instincts. ” 

“ May be he has poisoned him with hemlock 
found at Pompeii.” 

“And will apply himself to embalming 
him, to give him the scientific shape of a 
mummy. ” 




28 


“In brief, whether it be by the sword, by 
fire or by poison, Don Hermenegildo is dead. ’’ 

“Yon are mistaken, gentlemen, ” said sud- 
denly a big, good-natured looking man with a 
florid complexion who, for an hour past, had 
taken a seat at that part of the table left vacant 
by the Neapolitan wagoners. 

All the young men turned their eyes towards 
the interlocutor. By the glances which they 
exchanged, Lncien concluded that none of them 
knew the man. 

“Yon say, sir?” replied one of the gen- 
tlemen with a smile that clearly showed his 
anger ! 

“ I said that yon were aU mistaken. ” 

“Ah!” exclaimed the cavalier with the 
whiskers, “and yon pretend, sir, to be better 
informed than ns?” 

“I have snch pretention,” replied the big 
man, as he carved a partridge that was jnst 
served to him. 

“We are five gentlemen here who would be 
curious to acquire the proof of it,” said the 
young man who had related the story so atten- 
tively heard by Lncien; “let me tell you our 
names, ” added he rising : 

“ Antoino de Ponte- Vecchio, captain of the 


♦ 


29 


guards ; Kafael Rasconti, lieutenant to the 
Syracuse dragoons ; Orlando Zacari, hunts- 
man ; Max de Rheiss, officer of the huntsmen ; 
monsieur ? . . . ” — directing towards Lucien an in- 
terrogative look. 

‘‘Lucien de Yarny, secretary of the French 
embassy, ” said the other. 

‘ ‘ And your servant, Charles Sheldon, tour- 
ist, continued the young man, ‘ ‘ who would 
be delighted to hear the explanations that you 
have undoubtedly to give them : but before 
hearing you, we would all desire to know to 
whom we shall be indebted for the honor of 
learning the truth ? ” 

“ To the marquis James de Noirmoutiers, ” 
answered the big good-natured man, inclining 
himself towards his plate. 

The six young men saluted him. 

There was a moment’s silence which was 
broken by the American tourist, who seemed 
the most resolute of the troop. 

“We will confess, M. le marquis, ” said he, 
“that you better than anybody else are in a 
position to know how the affair happened at 
your home, for you were there when Don Her- 
menegildo arrived. Then you have not killed 
him?” 


30 


‘‘I have neither stabbed, poisoned, nor 
bnried him ; and neither did I make a skeleton 
or a mnmmy of him. ” 

‘‘ Then how did you act with him ? ” . 

‘‘I invited him to supper. ” 

The young men looked stupified at each 
other. 

“You are astonished at that, gentlemen, 
continued the marquis, who however took 
care to attend to his meal, “ he at first certainly 
made some objections, but he finished by ac- 
cepting. And we sat at table together. 

“And cheek by jowl ? ” added Lucien. 

“ Not at all ; Madame de Noirmoutiers kept 
us company. In place of hemlock, I poured 
him out some Falernian wine found under the 
ruins of Herculaneum. He had the politeness 
to declare it excellent. ” 

“It was the least he owed you. ” 

“I admit that he uttered an exclaniatioii 
when he saw me ; it was because he had un- 
doubtedly mistaken for a dagger the Etruscan 
flat candlestick that I was carrying. ” 

“You stopped him, however ? ” 

“Certainly. If he had been seen coming 
down from my balcony at one o’clock in the 
morning, it would have been believed that he 


31 


was in good luck, and I was willing to save 
Ms reputation from being belied. ” 

It is a noble revenge. ” 

‘‘The amours of our epoch are not worthy 
any other. Do you think I have the humor to 
make my wife play the role of Jane^Shore? 
Decause a Catalonian hidalgo casts his sweet 
eyes too closely on the marchioness, would you 
wish that I mete out to him the fate of Dizzio ? 
This, gentlemen, is no longer the custom of the 
world, and antiquarian though I am, I under- 
stand modern ideas. ” 

“ I have no doubt of it, M. le marquis, ” an- 
swered Charles with an unaccountable smile, in 
which irony was mixed with politeness ; “but 
you did not tell us how this marvelous supper 
terminated. ” 

“Apparently as all repasts end. By an 
amicable intermixture of toasts. Madame de 
i^oirmou tiers being in a charming and cheerful 
state of mind. ” 

“She is a woman of so much wit!” said 
Antonio de Ponte- Vecchio. 

“When there was no more wine in the de- 
eanters, the soft glimmer of aurora was playing 
through the blinds which cast on us a fresh 
and rosy light. Madame de ISToirmoutiers then 
retired. ” 


32 


It was the hour of vengeance ! ” 

“It was the hour to sleep. Notwithstand- 
ing my wish to be agreeable to you, I cannot 
satisfy you on this point, for there is neither- 
poisoned cup, nor Carthagenian sword in all 
this. ” • 

“ Nevertheless, Don Hermenegildo Saria has. 
disappeared,’* exclaimed Orlando the huntsman.. 

“You would say that he is gone, ” retorted 
the antiquary. 

“ Gone ! ” repeated the group of young men. 
“ Oh ! indeed, yes ! he has gone on board of 
a tartane which was sailing for Malta. ” 

“I understand, ” said the lieutenant Rafael^ 
you had him arrested by three or four sbirros 
and led bound on board the tartane. ” 

“I would have you remember, sir,” said 
the big diplomatist crossing his hands upon his. 
round stomach, ‘ ^ that there are no more sbirros. 
Don Hermenegildo took on himself to execute 
this trip, which I had not at all begged him ta 
accomplish. When my wife had saluted us, I 
arose, and, taking my companion by the arm, 
I amused myself by showing him my galleries, 
which he had the extreme politeness to admire. 
While speaking of Greek art, we arrived at my 
door; it was daylight, and vdth the exception 


33 


of two or three fried-fish peddlars the street 
was asleep. I pointed out the deserted cause- 
way to my guest, and we separated.” 

‘ ‘ And he did not say anything to you ? did 
nothing ? ” exclaimed Charles. 

‘ ‘ What do you think he could do against a 
husband ! 

‘‘ Oh, indeed ! If I had been in his place, the 
thing would never have gone off in that passive 
style, ” said captain Antonio. 

“You speak very easily, sir, but it is evident 
you are ignorant of what it is to have a mid- 
night interview with a husband. If you knew 
what terrible power we possess, when we appear 
dressed just in our night-gown and slippers ! 
The most formidable Don Juan would tremble 
and shiver under such circumstances. 

“Vilified, scoffed at and dismissed ! it is too 
much, ’ ’ said Max. 

“You would have been better pleased had I 
killed him, I suppose. Well everyone gets his 
revenge in his own way. I shall never kill any- 
body. While we were in Rome, last year, 
Madame de Noirmoutiers had an amour.” 

“Ha ! Ha ! a new one ! ” exclaimed Rafael. 

“ISTo, an old one in the ordef of dates ; but 
he came after you. ” 


34 


“It is thus we lose ourselves with the mar- 
chioness, ” added Charles ; “no one but your- 
self, sir, would commit an error in this way. ” 
“You know,” answered the antiquarian 
with splendid command of temper, and fixing 
his looks on Mr. Sheldon,” that my wife is too 
pretty to ever be short of lovers. I have here 
in my pocket, a la Petrarch^ our friend’s last 
sonnet but one. Are you curious to hear it ? ” 
“Yes, indeed !” eagerly cried the Bavarian 
• noble. 

“It is useless, ” brusquely replied Charles, 
his cheeks slightly coloring. 

“As Mr. Sheldon judges that it would be 
wasting time, ” continued the impassable mar> 
quis, “we shall come back to the amours of 
Borne. — It was a gentleman of Verona, a very 
fine man indeed, and proportionately rich. He 
got up endless/e^e^ to please Madame de Hoir- 
moutiers. Our nights were a long concert. 
How many times have I not fallen asleep on 
the andante of Bell Ima innamorata I But 
the music, however fine became monotonous, as 
it always does when there is too much of it ; 
while the company where engaged, I put my 
hand upon a* dozen gallant epistles of the 
Veronese: my wife marvelously helped me by 


35 


feigning to have lost them near her room, and 
two days after they were printed in a fenilleton 
of the Diario di Roma. ” 

“Printed ! ” 

“All entire,” said the antiquary. “They 
obtained an immense success. They were written 
in the most elegant Italian romantic style, and 
two transparent initials were left to each letter 
to quietly allow the name of the author be 
known to everybody. ” 

“And what did the Veronese do about it?” 
asked captain Antonio. 

“He went to Syria, and I believed he was 
killed at Beyrout. ” 

“What a born devil!” muttered Charles, 
contemplating the diplomatist with admiration. 

“You have some marvelous means of rid- 
ding yourself of the lovers of the marchioness,” 
said Hafael ; “the one gets out of the depths 
of despair to drink some Falernian wine of the 
period of Pontius Pilate in your company ; the 
other goes and gets killed because you under- 
took to make him a feuilletonist against his 
will. You are doubtless philosopher enough 
to permit me to make this observation: — Do 
you believe that this will be sufficient, to pre- 
serve you from all accident in the future ?” 


36 


have an armor which renders me as in- 
vulnerable as a husband can be on this sublu- 
nary sphere. ’’ 

‘‘ What do you call this armor ? ’’ 

You know it ! It is Madame de Iloirmou- 
tiers herself. ” 

‘‘How do you mean?” exclaimed Lucien 
who was perplexed by the phlegmatic temper 
of the good-natured old man. 

“If her grace is a loadstone that attracts, 
her coquetry is a shield which guards. ” 

“God give me life, ” said Charles in an un- 
dertone, “ and I shall test the defects of the 
armor. ” , 

Just then, a postilion announced to the mar- 
quis that the carriage was ready. 

“Good-bye, gentlemen, ” said the diploma- 
tist, rising ; “I start for Vienna where his 
majesty the king of the Two-Sicilies sends me, 
and I leave my wife under your protection. ” 

“Who could be more impertinent than this 
old antiquary!” exclaimed Rafael petulant- 
ly. He makes me feel anxious to fall in love 
with his wife. ” 

“HonH burn yourself there, ” said Charles 
to him, quietly. 

“But, yourself?” 


37 


Oil ! as for me, it is already done. ” 

Ten minutes later, the company separated 
and Lncien resumed the road to Naples. 

When two or three leagues from the city 
gate, a blockade of carts and carrioles stopped 
his post-chaise. Upon the highway stood a car- 
riage whose horses were pawing the ground and 
impatiently champing their bits. A young lady, 
leaning out of the coach door, was lecturing 
the groom. 

‘‘Will you go on there!” said she; “I 
shall never have time to dress. ” 

“I cannot, madam,” answered the unhappy 
coachman. 

Suddenly the horses, scared by the noise, 
dashed down the lower side of the road at a 
brisk gallop. The carriage, carried away, pitched 
over the small ditch alongside the bank, ran 
through the field, struck a stump, and was 
turned upside down on the grass in less time 
than it takes to describe it. 

Lucien springing over the half- door of his 
chaise ; full of anxiety, ran and found, stand- 
ing close by the overturned carriage, a lady 
laughing loudly over her mishap. 


Chapter III. 

Lucien makes Madame de Noirmoutiers’ acquaintance. — The 
invitation. — A few words on M. and Madame de jSToirmou- 
tiers. — The marchioness' character. — Lucien’s first visit to the 
marchioness. — The impromptu ball. — A game of cards by two 
oflEicers. — The stakes. — Madame de Noirmoutiers leaves Naples 
for the villa Orso. — Lncien and the two Neapolitans. 

^ T first Lncien, surprised, stopped ; but 
seeing the turn the accident had taken, 
approached the laughing lady whom he saluted : 

‘‘ I do not believe, madam, ’’ said he, “that 
it is necessary to ask if you are injured ? ” 

“Oh ! not in the least, ” answered the lady 
shaking her head with a movement full of 
gaiety ; “ it is but a trifling affair, and I was 
stretched on the turf which is as soft as down ; 
but upon getting up, I could not help laughing 
at seeing the singular figure poor Peter cut. ” 
Poor Peter, who was the coachman, and 
had been thrown heavily down enough from 
his seat, looked at the caleche with such a piti- 
ful expression of sorrow and humiliation, that 
the lady had much difficulty in restraining 
herself from a fresh outburst of laughter. 

“ Well, my friend, ” said she at last, “there 
is nobody either killed or wounded. You will 
meditate to-morrow on this adventure ; but at 


39 


present, it is advisable to raise tbe carriage and 
start at once. They are waiting for me at the 
ball, and if I do not return immediately to 
Naples, I will not have time to prepare my 
toilet. ” 

‘ ‘ Certainly, my lady, ” said the groom, at 
the same time scratching his ear, “we should 
raise the carriage ; but there is something else 
the matter. ” 

‘ ^ And what is that ? ” 

“ The shaft is broken, my lady. ’ ’ 

A glance assured madame that this was 
true. The shaft was broken in the middle. . 
She stamped her little foot on the ground with 
impatience. 

“What shall we do nowT’ said she petu- 
lantly. 

“Confound it! I do not know,’' replied 
Peter. 

Lucien understood that the moment to offer 
his services had come. 

“The unlucky accident which has thrown 
you into this meadow, madam, ” said he to her, 
“must serve as an excuse for the boldness of my 
proposition, and I dare to hope that you will 
not be offended if I beg you to accept a seat in 
my carriage.” 


40 


The lady bowed slightly, glanced at her in- 
terlocutor, then at the post-chaise proudly 
waiting on the causeway, and lastly at the 
caleche lying forlornly on the grass. She had 
a great inclination to answer yes, but she hesi- 
tated however. 

Lucien, who noticed her perplexity, re- 
peated : 

Pardon me if I insist, madam ; but it seems 
I heard you speak about a toilet which you 
would not have time to make if you could not 
soon arrive in Naples ; for goodness sake, do not 
deprive those who are waiting for you of the 
pleasure they will have in seeing you. ’’ 

‘‘As you conclude they would be so unhap- 
py, ” said she, “I will be compassionate.” 

The lady gave some orders to Peter, took 
the proffered arm of Lucien, and stepped light- 
ly into the post-chaise, which started off at a 
gallop. 

“This is to what one exposes oneself when 
one is an affectionate wife, ” said she, noncha- 
lantly establishing herself in a corner of the 
carriage ; “if I have not taken a heroic sort of 
fancy to accompany my dear husband, this ac- 
cident would not have happened me. ” 

“ I thank your heroism, ” answered Lucien, 
simply. 


41 


The conversation thus began, instantly took 
a lively and pleasant turn, which pnt both 
speakers in excellent hnmor. The lady show- 
ed that she had some wit and originality of 
imagination, and the cavalier supported with 
his best efforts the good reputation of his coun- 
trymen. 

So when the carriage entered Naples, it 
seemed to them that the journey had occupied 
but a few moments ; it had however taken full 
a long hour. 

Here we are in town, ” said Lucien to the 
lady, ‘‘but I do not know where should drive 
you. ” 

“Ah ! that is true, ” said she. Please ins- 
truct your coachman to drive to Toledo street, 
to the hotel of the marchioness de ISToirmou- 
tiers. ” 

At the mention of this name, Lucien star- 
ted and looked more attentively at his fair 
neighbor than even he had been doing. She 
appeared to him what she was, wonderfully 
beautiful. A divinely shaped head poised over 
a most graceful body by a delightfully slender 
neck. 

Lucien, whose imagination was active, had 
ceased to speak when the post-chaise stopped 


42 


in front of a mansion wh )se double doors were 
instantly flung open. 

As the marchioness put her pretty foot on 
the steps, she quickly turned. 

“But now I think of it, ” said she, I ought 
at least, sir, to know to whom I am indebted 
for this really imported service. ’’ 

“M. de Varny, ’’ answered Lucien. 

“ M, de Yarny, ” repeated the marchioness, 
“stop a moment; it seems to me that this 
name is not unknown to me...M. de Yarny; 
yes, it is really that. ’’ 

And Madame de Noirmou tiers toyed with 
the tresses of her abundant hair in consulting 
her memory. 

“ Ah ! , I recollect,” she exclaimed whilst 
Lucien was contemplating her, impatiently but 
silently ; “are you not, sir, connected with the 
diplomatic body 1 ’’ 

“I am secretary to the French embassy in 
Naples, madam.” 

“Yes, yes 1 and your name is Lucien 1 ” 

“Lucien, at your service, madam.” 

“ Madame d’ Astouans, your cousin and my 
friend, has written me very much about you in 
her last letters, and has informed me of your 
recent arrival in N aples. If you look attentively 


43 


among your papers you will find somewhere a 
letter of introduction to me.” 

“I hope so, madam,” said Lucien pulling 
out his pocket-book which he commenced 
searching eagerly, when he was stopped by 
Madame de Noirmou tiers. 

‘‘It is unnecessary,” said she, “an ac- 
quaintance has been formed between us, and I 
would have you burn the letter, were I not 
afraid that it might contain, in a post- 
script, a want of some of those coral trinkets 
to which Parisian ladies attach so much value, 
since the Neapolitans do not wear them any 
longer. Hereafter please consider this house 
as yours, and come to see me as often as you 
can. ” 

Madame de Noirmoutiers presented her hand 
to Lucien which he kissed, and she vanished 
into the mansion. 

One word now regarding M. and Madame 
de Noirmoutiers, whose names were introduced 
ever and anon into the conversations which 
charm the leisure hours of the Neapolitans, 
who are one of the most chattering and curious 
people on the face of the earth. 

The marquis de Noirmoutiers was the eldest 
son of an emigre' who, driven from France by 


44 


tlie Reign of Terror, had sought an ayslum at 
Naples, where he married a wealthy heiress 
of Capitanate passionately fond of titles and 
heraldy. On the death of his parents, he 
became possessed of both nobility and fortune, 
so that gratitude as well as habit attached him 
to the soil where he was born, he had made 
Naples his home and solicited from the govern- 
ment an office, which was at once tendered 
him. His taste for antiquities was acquired by 
traveling, and his best friends did not know 
which he liked more, to sign a protocol or to 
classify a medal. It was in Paris that he met 
and married Mile, de Miriolles, for notwith- 
standing he was over forty years, he entered 
into matrimony courageously, and with the 
philosophy of a man who had a passion in 
which he could take refuge in case of a misad- 
venture, arising out of the doubtful eventuali- 
ties of a disproportionate marriage. As out- 
side of the numismatic art, he was a diplomatist 
of wit and line manners, he was not displeasing 
to the lady, who herself, captivated him by 
those sensible traits of character which are not 
ordinarily courted by aspirants : — a gr^t viva- 
city, a moving humor, much ardor in the pur- 
suit of pleasure, an inalterable gaiety which 


45 


would cause her audience to pass from a laugh 
to tears in an instant, and so capricious and 
fantastic an imagination, that she managed to 
see things the reverse of what they appeared to 
others. 

When she arrived in Naples, she allowed 
herself to gaily float with the tide, though to 
tell the truth she helped a little, until she 
reached the highest step on the unsteady lad- 
der which Fashion holds with uncertain hand. 
Yet she had the supreme art to maintain it there 
herself. If the epithet of lionne had passed the 
Alps, Madame de Noirm on tiers would have 
been the first lionne of Naples; she satisfied 
herself to be the most welcome, carressed and 
sought for woman in the city. She was born 
without fortune and had been simply educated 
in an austere house, where ease was parsimoni- 
ously distributed. She had in herself an 
innate love of luxury and a taste for splendor. 

From the very first visits the marquis paid 
to Mile, de Miriolles, her parents used all the 
arts and influence in their power to make her 
appear agreeable to him ; telling her that a 
pretty woman is happy only so far as fortune 
allows her to satisfy her least whim and fancy, 
and that a rich husband should be sought, be- 


46 


cause his wealth would permit her to set out in 
more relief, and make more attractive, her own 
natural gifts. 

Thus it is that so many sacrilegious coup- 
lings^ so many immoral marriages are planned 
and consummated in our day ; forty -nine out of 
fifty of which, as in the present case, — as will be 
seen further on, — lead to consequences so ter- 
rible and heart-rending. 

The antiquary placed his income at her 
disposal, and the young wife used it with a 
charming prodigality which immediately gave 
to her mansion a great renown in Naples. It 
became, in a very short time, the animated and 
noisy centre of all that the city of Parthenope 
had of wealthy idlers, of fashionable ladies, of 
foreigners of distinction, of eminent artists. It 
was precisely what the marquis most desired ; 
being himself of a taciturn character, he used 
the unalterable cheerfulness of his wife as an 
antidote. Never did he show himself more 
pleased, than when he saw her surrounded by 
people eager to please her. 

We will be told, perhaps, that the marquis 
was a singular husband who took such pains to 
approach the fiame which so many others 
avoid ; but there are husbands of all kinds, 


47 


and the marquis was one who believed that 
a multiplicity of acquaintances in the excite- 
ment of life were conjugal conductors. 

Here we are obliged to avow that Madame 
de Noirmoutiers was coquettish ; this adjective 
poorly expresses our meaning: — she was pos- 
sessed of the most ardent desire to please every- 
body, at any price. This desire was a require- 
ment of her nature, which she instinctively 
obeyed without calculating what she was doing. 
‘‘Please at first, ever pleased,’’ was her law, 
and she never was so happy, as when she felt 
the seductions of her charms and wit exercised 
their empire upon those who approached her. 
Carried away by a belief in her superiority in 
everything, by the conviction of her beauty, 
Madame de ISToirmou tiers could not understand 
why everyone did not submit instantly to her 
infiuence. Greedy of homage and adulation, 
although she was a woman of rare wit and of 
real intelligence, she accepted them as fiowers 
do the dew. It was in some respects a tribute 
owed to her by everyone. 

It was thought that with this character, 
Madame de Noirmoutiers exposed herself to be 
entrapped in her turn by the first attractive 
dandy who threw himself in her way, and that 


48 


the assumed indifference of an aspirant cun- 
ning enough to play the part of a cold Lovelace 
or of an impenetrable Byronian hero, would be 
able to secure an easy triumph. Such was not 
the fact, however. This rakish trick, which 
never fails to succeed with vulgar flirting 
women, failed with her, and whoever resolved to 
practice it only brought himself into ridicule 
and gained in her mind, the reputation of a sim- 
pleton. It appeared to her pride that to protest 
against her superiority, was like denying the light 
which was so much the worse for those who could 
not see it. She would say of them that they were 
devoid of intelligence and sentiment, and she 
shrugged her shoulders. But she took great 
care to have a grudge against them, she simply 
forgot to notice them. 

With all this, Madame de I^oirmoutiers was 
good-natured, frank and loyal, and devoted to 
her friends who could ask anything of her, ex- 
cept the sacrifice of a ribbon. 

Such was the woman that Lucien went to 
see the day after his arrival in Naples. He was 
ushered into a splendid apartment where marvels 
of art were distributed with charming taste. 
Yases, tablets, statues, mosaics and glittering 
arms were arranged along the galleries to the 


49 


boudoirs, with a profusion which in no way con- 
flicted with elegance. One would guess at the 
first glance, that the hand of a woman endowed 
with the highest degree of artistic sentiment 
had presided in arranging the rich treasures 
collected by the marquis. 

Lucien had found the letter of which Madame 
de Noirmoutiers’ had spoken to him : — she read 
it rapidly whilst they were alone. 

“Well, well,” said she, passing from pa- 
ragraph to paragraph, “Madame d’Astouans 
forgets that she has already written me on this 
subject, but on account of your relationship, 
such things must be overlooked. Let us see, ” 
and she crumpled the paper between her pretty 
fingers, “do me quickly some news of that dear 
Paris which I love so much ! ” 

Lucien answered, and the conversation was 
prolonged, Madame de Noirmoutiers soon began 
to use the first resource of her coquetry, when 
several persons entering ; the conversation took 
a general turn, and the marchioness ceased to 
skirmish with Lucien, to give battle to some 
hairbrained fop who engaged her attention. 

It happened that this very evening a large 
company met at Madame de ISToirmoutiers’ 
house ; the most fashionable ladies, coming in 


50 


immediately after leaving the theatre of San 
Carlo, and bringing their husbands in their 
train. Visitors succeeded each other with mar- 
velous rapidity, the marchioness, who was a 
woman of the world, and who well understood 
how to best entertain company, improvised a 
ball which soon produced a sympathic feeling 
of happiness. As there are none in Italy who 
are not more or less musicians, an orchestra was 
immediately organized, and with half a dozen 
basses, violins and hutes, produced from a cabi- 
net, under the lead of a piano, the whole com- 
pany gaily began to dance. 

In the midst of the throng, Lucien observed 
Mr. Sheldon, and the two young men instantly 
approached each other. 

‘‘Nothing is talked of but of your exploits,” 
said Charles after the usual salutations. 

“Of my exploits! of me?” asked Lucien 
quite astonished. 

“Who else then, if you please, yesterday, 
saved Madame de Noirmoutiers and brought 
her back triumphantly into Naples? Who was 
it kissed her hand on the steps of her mansion 
and is found the first in her drawing-room to- 
day ?” 

“There were some incidents for which I 


51 


have good reason to rejoice, but, for heavens 
sake ! do not raise to the dignity of an exploit 
an adventure which concludes with a promenade. 
As to my triumph, I am inclined to believe that 
it will be like Bon Hermenegildo’ s victory. 

‘‘It has, nevertheless, furnished the conver- 
sation of half the town. ” 

“ That part of it which has little else to do.’’ 
“I beg your pardon, — it employs itself in 
speaking ill of the other. ” 

“I regret then that it cannot injure me ; it 
would be a proof that I have something to lose.” 

“Is it, indeed the fact, that you did not 
know Madame de Noirm on tiers before your ar- 
rival in JN'aples?” said Mr. Sheldon, trying to 
disguise his jealous anxiety beneath an air of 
indifference. 

“I did not know her, but I was recommend- 
ed to her without my knowledge. ” 

‘ ‘ Then, bless the fortune which has brought 
you further into her good graces than one year 
of assidious attention could have done. ” 

Compelled to speak of the marchioness, 
Charles dwelt complaisantly on his theme, and 
passing, from one subject to another, he sketch- 
ed a portrait of her character similar to that we 
have already given.” Perhaps, inspired by a 


52 


secret spite, he overdrew the picture. Lucien 
listened to him, with his head sometimes bowed, 
and sometimes looking at the marchioness who 
smiled to him. He had but a brief acquaint- 
ance with her, yet he already took a singular 
interest in everything which concerned her. 
The words of Mr. Sheldon troubled him how- 
ever. 

Charles perceiving this, continued : 

“You see that, it is but two days since you 
first met her, and she has already gained the 
power over you that she exerts upon all who 
approach her. ” 

“That is then to say that you feel it your- 
self, and perhaps more deeply than others;” 
replied Lucien, fixing a curious look upon his 
interlocutor. 

“Perhaps, ” said Charles. 

‘ ‘ Then you love her ? ” 

Mr. Sheldon paused for a moment, during 
which he appeared to refiect more seriously 
than was usual with him, then raising his head 
and looking at Lucien with an intelligent smile, 
he replied : 

‘ ‘ I can truly answer you, you seem to have 
French wit enough to understand this sort of 
thing. No, I do not love her, but I am smitten 
with her.” 


53 


“Then, yon are in the best condition to suc- 
ceed, ” said Lucien with a throbbing heart. 

“Not exactly; not with her, at least, because 
it is one of the strangest mysteries of her inex- 
plicable nature that to aspire to her heart we 
must love her.” 

A blush here passed over the face of Lucien, 
and he threw a glance tender and deep to- 
wards the white queen of the ball. 

“But it seems to me, ” said he, “that many 
people must love her ; she is a woman to inspire 
love in everybody. ” 

“Ah! you had better believe it,” replied 
Charles ; “it is not such an easy thing to love 
whom you will.” 

Max de Kheiss, who had lost one hundred 
ducats by play, came to borrow Charles’ purse, 
and walked off with him. 

Lucien, being left alone, allowed his thoughts 
to float around Madame de Noirmoutiers, like 
those giddy moths which hover about a flame ; 
the marchioness occasionally encountered his 
looks, as she passed from group to group, and 
his serious and preoccupied expression delight- 
ed her. 

He was just entering the gallery where the 
card tables were arranged, when Antonio and 
Kafael passing by, saluted him. 


54 


The first time Lucien had seen them they ap- 
peared unfriendly toward him, for what cause, 
however, he could not understand. On the pre- 
sent occasion they seemed preoccupied with 
some bitter thoughts, and both of them quickly 
passed on, conversing in a low tone. 

Lucien stopped Charles, who was returning 
from the gaming-room with lightened purse. 

Look what gloomy figures,” he said, in- 
dicating Antonio and Rafael to his friend. 

^‘They are plotting some nefarious scheme,” 
answered Charles. 

Lucien interrogated him with his eyes. 

Oh !” continued Charles, accompanying his 
word with a scornful gesture, ‘ ‘ they wear the 
hearts of villains under the uniform of sol- 
dlei».” 

You judge them severely.” 
judge them as they esteem themselves. 
It is not that they are not brave, and I believe 
that, when the opportunity occurs, they will 
act boldly ; who will not fight now a days ? But 
at the bottom, their hearts are cowardly. Do 
you see, my dear M. de Yarny, there is not a 
single drop of Italian blood in those veins. It 
is a bastard mixture of English and Austrian, 
which ferments under the Neapolitan sun. Do 


55 


not depend npon such natures ; they are soft 
and supple as velvet, and, to make use of an 
expression of the poets, as treacherous as the 
waves.” 

“But, my dear Sheldon, by your manner 
with them yesterday I thought that you were 
their friend 

“ Pshaw ! ” returned the American, shrug- 
ging his shoulders in a philosophic way, “ those 
people amuse me, that is all I care for. Besides, 
honest people are little accustomed to be mo- 
rose.” 

The words of Charles Sheldon had, however, 
struck M. de Yamy. Obedient to an impulse 
which came from the heart and not from the 
will, he went towards the Italians. Both were 
resting their hands on the back of two chairs 
placed at the end of a table. They were look- 
ing motionless and mutely at each other, the 
white gleams of an alabaster lustre rendering 
still more pale the tinge of their foreheads, 
where the shadow of a fatal thought seemed to 
reflect upon them. 

“Well then ! let us play for her? ” 

“So be it,” answered Bafael, and he tore 
the envelope from a pack of cards. Lucien 
started up, his heart telling him that some in- 


56 


visible danger was banging over Madame de 
Noirmoutiers. 

He approached the two players. Antonio 
lifted his head, a cold smile playing about his 
lips, as he set himself to shuffle the cards. 

Lucien threw some pieces of gold on the 
table. 

‘‘Which of you, gentlemen, will agree to 
cover this stake ? ” said he carelessly. 

Hafael picked up the pieces of gold scat- 
tered on the green cloth of the table, and polite- 
ly handed them back to him. 

“I beg your pardon,” said he to Lucien, 
“ but neither of us can do that. What we play 
for cannot be paid.” 

The game began. The chances were sudden. 
In two games Antonio acknowledged defeat. 

“I have lost,” said he in brushing up the 
cards, whilst a feeling of triumph swelled the 
breast of his vanquisher. “But my word is 
given,” continued Antonio ; “lam yours when 
you are willing, Rafael.” 

“I count on it,” replied the lieutenant, and 
both shook hands. 

When they re-appeared at the ball, there 
was but a small group of talkers on a balcony, 
along which were a number of boxes of bloom- 
ing orange-trees. 


57 


“What! you leave us, Madam,” said a lit- 
tle Ahhe. 

“For a few days only,” answered Madame 
de Noirmou tiers, “but do not despair, I am 
going to the villa Orso, and you know that is 
only ten or twelve miles from Naples.” 

“But it is a desert 1 ” replied the Abbe. 

“The retreat is planted with laurel-roses, 
lemon trees and jasmines,” said she, “where 
we sometimes invite poor anchorites like your- 
self to come and do penance.” 

“Then they surely find a paradise there,” 
returned the Abbe. 

“Do you start this morning. Madam?” 
asked a French painter. 

“I believe not,” replied the marchioness; 
“I will sleep too late. It would be necessary 
for me to dare the caresses of the sun, and I 
confess that they seem to me too ardent at 
noon ; I shall start undoubtedly towards even- 
ing.” 

The two players exchanged a glance which 
Lucien was quick in detecting. 

“Let us form a guard of honor for you,” 
said the painter, with a laughing bow. 

“Willingly,” said the marchioness; “it is 
a ride that wiU afford you an opportunity of 


58 


admiring Phoebus set in the gulf of Parthen- 
ope, which continues to inflame as in the my- 
thological times, and I will take the painting 
which, I am sure, the scene will inspire you to 
sketch.” 

On the following day, two hours before sun- 
set, a caleche, flanked by flve or six cavaliers, 
traveled on the road to Sorrento. Madame 
de Noirmoutiers sat with coquettish grace in 
the carriage ; the cavaliers were Antonio and 
Rafael, Lucien and Charles, the French painter, 
whom they called Horace Didier, and Max de 
Rheiss. A luncheon detained them for a few 
moments at the villa Orso, thence all took the 
road to Naples ; but as they were going along 
a small clump of pines, Lucien observed a man 
emerge from among the trees and, in passing 
away, rapidly exchange a look and a few words 
with Rafael, who kept a short distance behind 
the party. The suspicions which Lucien had 
conceived the night before, were roused anew 
with redoubled strength. 

As they were about to separate on entering 
the town, Charles asked the cavaliers if they 
would not like to pass the rest of the night at 
his residence. 

“We sincerely regret not being able to ac- 


59 


cept,” said Kafael, “for the captain and I are 
on duty to-night, and we must immediately push 
on towards the barracks. Good-bye, gentlemen!’* 
And turning their horses’ heads the two Neapol- 
itans disappeared down a lane. 


Chapter TV. 

Lucien’s anxieties. — A night expedition on the Bay of Naples. 
— The plot. — The two cavaliers. — Peppe the goatherd. — The 
encounter and the colloquy which followed. — Lead against 
Steel. — The provocation. — The two cavaliers’ arrival. — The 
pretext and cause. — The duel. 

t dread sense of impending danger took pos- 
session of Lucien. He abruptly left Charles 
and his friends and dashed in pursuit of the 
Italian officers ; but in the labyrinth of streets 
in which they had disappeared, he lost track of 
them. For an instant he had an idea of taking 
to the plain and galloping to Orso Castle, but his 
horse was not strong, and the long journey it 
had already covered had almost completely ex- 
hausted it. As he slowly walked his horse, a 
thought struck him ; he went straight to his res- 
idence, and there changing his clothes, he put 
a large hat on his head, a rude cloak over his 


60 


body, filled his purse with gold and ran in haste 
to the Chiaja. He jumped into a boat, stirred 
up the fisherman and hurried him to setting full 
sail by slipping a few ducats into his hand. 

Lucien had remarked that the road which 
leads from Naples to the villa Orso described 
a large curve in following the sinuosities of the 
shore ; he thus hoped, by taking the line cf the 
arc, to arrive at the villa Orso before Antonio 
and Rafael, that was supposing they intended 
going there, as his presentiments lead him to 
believe they did. 

A fresh breeze ruffled the surface of the phos- 
phorescent waters ; the waves running from the 
horizon to spread their luminous ridges on the 
silver sands ; the sea seemed to palpitate ; one 
might easily imagine that an harmonious res- 
piration was rising upon the breast of the gulf 
that the nymph Parthenope has baptized with 
her sweet name. The stars, lost like golden nail 
heads in a deep sky, were reflected in the 
depths where uppn Phoebus threw her radiant 
mantle. The bark flew under the sail light as 
a halcyon, gliding upon the water that it clave ; 
leaving behind its fleeting keel a long glister- 
ing wake, and whilst it was flying along, the 
fisherman sat at the stern singing sotto mce 
stray verses of Tasso. 


61 


Lucien cast a gloomy glance round the gulf, 
and, lost in his reveries, asked himself where 
he was going and what he purposed to do, and 
if he was not the plaything of a dream. He 
j remembered the Boulevard des Italiens and was 
I ordering the fisherman to put about, when he 
I heard up above the open space the clattering 
i sound of a furious gallop, and instantly lifting 
1 up his eyes, he saw pushing across a promon- 
! tory two figures on horseback, fiying at full 
speed, casting their shadows towards the trans- 
parent depths of the blue sky. It was like a 
doleful apparition, and the two cavaliers were 
already enveloped in darkness ere the resound- 
ing gallop of their steeds upon the flinty stones 
of the road had died away. 

An instant later the keel of the bark grated 
upon the shingle, and Lucien leaped upon the 
strand. With a few bounds he had reached the 
limits of a garden, which declined from the villa 
Orso to the beach. In front of a group of tama- 
rinds, a man was standing at the angle of a 
small pathway which led to the upper terrace, 
where the villa lifted up its white walls. At 
the first glance, Lucien knew that the man in 
his path was the same person who, a few hours 
before, had signaled and spoken to Kafael. 


62 


Lucien crept along in Indian fashion, keeping 
his body closely in the shadow of the shrubbery, 
until he came to a woody clump between the 
man and the villa, when he concealed himself 
in its recesses. The thought that a mysterious 
danger threatened the head of her whom he pas- 
sionately adored, had suddenly developed in 
him the powerful faculties of the red men cele- 
brated by Cooper : craft, patience and cool re- 
solution. With eyes ardently fixed upon the 
dumb sentry who kept awake during the night, 
he waited. 

The man, clothed in skins like a goatherd, 
stood steadfast and motionless with his head 
turned towards that part of the pathway run- 
ning towards the highway. Before long, a 
light sound of steps on the gravel broke the 
silence, interrupted only by the moaning of the 
sea. Two men, wrapped in cloaks, apioeared on 
the pathway. Lucien instantly recognized them 
as Antoino and Rafael. 

In a few moments they reached the goat- 
herd. 

‘‘It is thou, Peppe asked Rafael. 

“It is me, my masters,” answered the man, 
removing from his forehead a tattered hat, from 
which was picturesquely suspended a piece of 
red ribbon. 


63 


‘‘ Well, then ? ” queried the other. 

‘‘I have played a la mora with Giacomo the 
gardener; he lost and drank so much of the 
wine of Sicily, to comfort himself, that he now 
sleeps on the straw as quietly as a saint in its 
shrine. This explains how I have the key.” 

‘‘Well ! and Pablo the guard ? ” 

‘ ‘ I made up so fine a story for him about a 
gang of marauders, who plunder the enclosures, 
that he is gone with his gun and dog, to watch 
figs which nobody cares about.” 

“ Thou art, by Saint January ! a queer and 
very smart fellow, ” said Rafael. “ Give me the 
key, quick !” 

“Who gives receives,” replied the goatherd 
grimly, without moving. 

“Here is my purse.” 

The goatherd took it and, balancing it in his 
hand, appeared to judge it sufficiently heavy, 
for he put it in the breast of his goatskin coat. 

“ Here is the key, ” said he. 

“ Art thou quite sure that it is the key of the 
green door % ” asked Rafael on examining it. 

“ Try it, ” said Peppe, “ and you will see it 
plays in the lock as a child in the arms of its 
mother.” 

“Follow us, then. ” 


64 


And all three directed their steps towards 
the terrace. 

Lucien, motionless and scarcely breathing, 
had lost not a word of the conversation. When 
the three marched olf, he ran towards the villa 
in a straight line, jumping over hedges, cross- 
ing walls built to exclude trespassers and climb- 
ing over espaliers. A few of the flint stones dis- 
lodged by his feet rolled down the road. 

“Somebody is there,” said Antonio stopping. 

“ It is only a goat browsing,” replied Rafael. 

“ No, ” saidPeppe, “it is a man ; a smuggler 
undoubtedly. ” 

‘ ‘ Go forward then ! ’ ’ 

Lucien, panting, arrived first at the green door 
which opened into a garden forming a terrace 
all around the villa. It was a door used by the 
servants of the house ; some large grating, high 
and cemented up into the wall, was closed at 
night. On the tops of the walls were pieces of 
broken glass, with their sharp points projecting 
outwards from the mortar, to defend the place 
against all attempts at escalade. When the grat- 
ing was closed, and the doors padlocked, the 
villa Orso was like a fortress. 

Lucien hid himself in an angle where a pro- 
jecting part of the wall concealed him. The two 


65 


Neapolitans and the goatherd arrived shortly 
afterwards. 

‘‘ Here is the door, ’’ said Hafael ; ‘‘when I 
get into the garden, I wiU only have to climb 
to the gallery which turns upon the porticos, to 
throw up a thin bhnd, and between the alcove 
of the signora and I there will only remain a 
silk curtain.” 

Lucien heart throbbed wildly in his breast. 

“We will see, ’ ^ added Rafael, if the coquetry 
of the lady will enable her to find some resource 
against this visit. But above all, we must un- 
derstand each other well. Peppe must go and 
watch in front of that door ; one whistle will let 
us know if the guard re-appears. As for you, 
captain, follow me. You remember our com- 
pact, don’t you?” 

“I remember it well, ” replied Antonio. 

“You will stay under the porticos ; a ser- 
vant may take a fancy to enjoy the fresh air, 
and we must prevent him hearing and seeing. 
If it should happen that the lady should resolve 
to raise an alarm, at my call you must run, and 
instantly seize, gag and bear her off on the croup 
of my horse, and gallop towards your villa. 

“And to-morrow?” 


66 


“To-morrow? It will be then by the grace 
of God ! But I suppose her to have too much 
sense to wish to make a drama of this comedy.” 

“Perhaps.” 

“Pshaw! she will cry, will pray, and will 
faint. ” 

Antonio, Rafael and Peppe having resolved 
upon their plan on the pathway, were turning 
to approach the green door, when they per- 
ceived a man walking under the terrace. 

“ Somebody ! ” said Rafael. 

“ It is only a clown,” said Antonio, deceived 
by the costume of Lucien. 

“Get out of this 1 ” Rafael then said gruffly, 
moving towards him. 

Lucien turned slowly, and stared at him. 

“There is room here for everybody !” said 
he, in a disguised voice. “It pleases me to re- 
main here, and here I shall stay. ’ ’ 

“It is a smuggler, ” remarked Peppe. “He 
is looking out to gain a few ducats ; give him 
half-a-dozen, and he will go. ” 

“Let us finish,” said Rafael, drawing some 
gold pieces out of his pocket; “take this and 
clear out ! ” 

Lucien took the money and scattered it dis- 
dainfully in the dust, without making any reply. 


67 


At this unexpected action Rafael started 
back. Peppe shook his head at an exhibition 
of boundless folly — to him. 

‘‘This is not what we looked for,” whis- 
pered the latter. 

“Antonio and Rafael looked at each other, 
and then consulted together for a moment in a 
low voice. At last Rafael, taking an extreme 
decision, turned towards the unknown man, and, 
saluting him, said : 

“If we have made a mistake, please excuse 
us, sir; but an affair of gallantry has brought us 
here ; and if nothing of importance keeps you 
here, we will be obliged to you to leave us at 
our liberty.” 

“ It is because you are here, M. Rafael Ras- 
conti, that I am here also,” answered Lucien 
loud voice. 

Hearing himself called by name, the lieu- 
tenant of the Queen’s Dragoons started as if he 
had been shot. 

He covered himself, and, gliding his hand 
towards his cloak, replied, looking at the un- 
known man : 

“ If you know my name so well, we should 
at least be on an equal footing ; will you inform 
me of yours, sir?” 


68 


‘‘Lucien deVarny,” replied the Frenchman, 
man, throwing back his large slonched hat. 

‘ ‘ Ah ! the secretary of the French em- 
bassy ! ” remarked Antonio. 

‘‘Yes,” said Rafael with a bitter smile; “ the 
man of the post-chaise.” 

Lucien remembered the words of Charles. 

“As it may please you, gentlemen ; but such 
I am, I have told you : I have come and I shall 
stay.” 

Rafael briskly half-opened his cloak; a dag- 
ger sparkled in his hand. 

“ I have anticipated this,” said Lucien, and, 
springing back, he cocked two pistols and 
pointed them at the heads of the Neapolitans. 

Antonio had imitated Rafael’s action, but, 
at the sight of the pistols whose gaping muzzles 
viciously menaced them, their arms dropped. 

“Throw down the weapons, gentlemen!” 
said Lucien ; “ you see that the game is at least 
even : lead against steel, and I strike from a lon- 
ger distance.” 

The two Neapolitans slowly dropped their 
stilettos. 

“Now, my friend Peppe will do me the favor 
to throw away his stick,” added Lucien. 

Peppe, who was not of a very bellicose na- 


ture, hastened to obey the Frenchman’s injunc- 
tion. 

“At present, let us talk, gentlemen,” re- 
marked M. de Yarny with a firm voice, but as 
calmly as if he was discussing the latest fashions 
in a pretty woman’s boudoir. 

“Be it so ! ” said Bafael, who bit his nails 
with rage ; “let us talk first, we will meet again 
later.” 

‘ ‘ I willingly agree to it, ’’ replied Lucien. ‘ ‘ I 
heard you both, gentlemen, while you were con- 
certing your nefarious plan.” 

“ Ah !” said Rafael turning pale, “you fol- 
low the trade of spy, then ! ” 

Lucien smiled disdainfully. 

“You were plotting a villainous enterprise, 
gentlemen,” said he, “two King’ s oflicers against 
one woman ! ” 

Rafael made a step forward ; the muzzle of 
a pistol advised him not to take another. 

“We said that we would talk, gentlemen,” 
added Lucien ; “if I fire, I can kill you, and if 
I wound you only, you will assume on your- 
selves a wicked affair. Do not move any more, 
but do what I tell you.” 

Antonio and Rafael bowed their heads ; their 
eyes flashed bitter, helpless hatred, and their 
lips were white with rage. 


70 


‘‘You will return to Naples instantly,” con- 
tinued Lucien ; ‘ ‘ your horses are not far off, I 
believe ; when I have seen you back, I will re- 
turn to the door.” 

“ Or go further, and higher, perhaps,” insin- 
uated Rafael under his breath. 

Lucien glanced at him from head to foot 
with an expression of supreme contempt. 

“ I shall come again to that door, and woe 
betide you if you try to come back again, be- 
cause then, by the Lord ! I will not spare you. 
You have heard me, gentlemen ? ” 

“Will you leave that door to-morrow, M, 
de Yarny ? ” asked Rafael sneeringly. 

“To-morrow^ if you dare, gentlemen, we shall 
finish as men of courage an encounter that you 
have commenced as bravoes.” 

Ten minutes after, Antonio and Rafael were 
galloping on the road to Naples. 

As he had expected, Lucien received the 
next day a visit from the two Neapolitans, both 
of whom, as he was infonned by Charles Shel- 
don, showed a disposition to act as gentlemen 
after they had conducted themselves as villains. 

“This is a serious affair, gentlemen,” said 
the secretary to them; “I imagine that you 


71 


understand all tlie discretion we should use. 
Nobody must in the least suspect the motive of 
our encounter, if by any accident the rumor of 
the duel gets abroad. And you are aware that 
outside of this, we will have a short distance 
to travel to meet face to face, without having to 
incur the little annoyance of a criminal trial. ’’ 

“There are many precautions, it seems to 
me,’’ said Kafael, “ you should have thought of 
the other night.” 

“ It is just because, the other night, I did not 
believe that I would have to light two officers,” 
coldly answered Lucien; “but, seeing your uni- 
form, to day, I remember what you are.” 

At this cool insult the two Italians turned 
pale. 

“ Let us have done Mth this,” said Rafael, 
“and do as you please.” 

“ If you think it proper, we will visit the Se- 
cret Museum ; we will pick up during our walk 
M. Charles Sheldon and M. de Rheiss. You 
can join us, if you like, with some one of your 
friends,— signor Orlando Zacari, for example ; 
we can meet in the hall, begin a discussion about 
some lively scandal in which I may interfere ; 
you will be careful to answer me curtly enough ; 
I will find in it a pretext to quarrel, and we will 


72 


provoke each other boldly. Then a fisherman’s 
skiff will convey us by night on to Papal Terri- 
tory, and our swords shall do the rest. ” 

Everything occurred precisely as Lucien 
would have had it ; but there was in the words 
of Antonio de Ponte- Yecchio and Pafael Ras- 
conti, a bitterness so haughtily expressed and 
so much abhorrence vainly dissimulated, that 
Charles was not befooled by the stratagem. 

“I see the pretext, but where is the cause ? ” 
said he to Lucien, while the bark fiew over the 
water. 

Well,” said Lucien embarrassed, “did not 
it seem to you that they put sufficient imperti- 
nence into their language and tone towards me?” 

“They put in too much ; and that is why I 
believe the cause may be found at the villa 
Orso.” 

When they had passed the extreme frontier 
of the kingdom of Naples, they landed in a sol- 
itary cove where a Roman landing-waiter was 
sleeping in the moonlight. 

The custom-house officer opened his eyes ; 
Charles closed them again with a handful of 
baiocci. 

“I give you my word that he will not waken 
again, ” said he ; “you can now slaughter your- 
selves with neatness and despatch.” 


73 


The rivals took off their coats ; Rafael first 
engaging himself against Lucien. 

The lieutenant of the Queen’s Dragoons had 
the reputation, in his regiment, of being an ex- 
cellent swordsman ; Lucien did not understand 
much about fencing, but he had a brave heart, 
a cool head and a strong arm, which singularly 
equalized the chances of the duel. 

Whilst they were desperately fencing, Charles 
Sheldon took the captain of the guard aside and 
said to him, in a cheery sort of way : 

‘‘I can guess pretty near what has brought 
you to the Pope’s dominions. If you will allow 
me to take the part of one of the compatriots of 
my best friend, whom marriage has made Italian, 
I request you to cross sword with me.” 

Antonio seemed to hesitate. 

“ I ask it so that this business may be more 
promptly concluded,” added Charles, “and so 
that we may be sure to arrive in good time to see 
the new opera to be produced at San Carlo’s to- 
night.” 

This last reason proved a decisive one with 
the captain, and the two immediately engaged in 
combat. 

Max de Rheiss and Orlando Zacari looked 
interestedly on. The land- waiter was meanwhile 


74 


calculating, how many ducats he could have in 
his haiocci. 

The fight did not last long ; the two Neapoli- 
tans were too much enraged in heart to ensure 
keen vision ; they paid for their impatient hate 
with wounds, and the skiff turns its agile prow 
towards Naples. 


Chaptek y. 

Charles Sheldon’s portrait. — At San Carlo. — Intimates conversa- 
tion between Lucien and Madame de Noirmoutiers. — A dan- 
gerous word. — Madame d’ Astouans’ letter to her cousin Lucien. 
— What was said concerning the marchioness during the even- 
ing party which took place at the palace of the Prince of 
Cassaro. — “Have you any enemies?” — A perfidious note. — 
Lucien escapes from death. — The bandit Gaspard. — Lucien at 
the marchioness’ house. — The avowal. — An original lover. — 
“Give me my equal and I will love.” — Nothing and all. 

t s there had been no breach of peace, the po- 
lice closed their eyes to the wounds of the two 
officers who, however, were not seriously hurt; 
but all the town was set in commotion by the 
incident, and the adventure of Don Hermengildo 
was forgotten. 

Whilst the gossip and chatter were keeping 
tongues busy, Lucien frequently saw Madame 
de Noirmoutiers. To describe briefly the effect 


75 


: she had on him, it is only necessary to say that 
I he did not regret the Boulevard des Italiens. 

After her, the person he most associated with, 

I was Charles Sheldon, for whom he had acquired 
I a sincere affection, notwithstanding that he was 
; perfectly aware of his projects; but such feelings 
I affect the human heart, which may be subdued 
I by trifling attentions, if we could only under- 
1 stand when and how to bestow them. 

! Upon a supple body, active, vigorous and 
j graceful, Charles carried a head whose charm- 
I ing sweep almost insensibly recalled the Endy- 
! mion of Gerard. To this beauty, which will 
i ever be considered a divine gift, notwithstanding 
I whatever sickly and misshapen people may say, 

! the American tourist added many other advan- 
tages ; he had a delicate and rapturous spirit, 
an unalterable cheerfulness, an unbounded gen- 
erosity, and with as much audacity in his char- 
acter as to be an unbeliever in the impossible. 
At the most, he could only be reproached with a 
jeering scepticism which caused him to ridicule 
everything : he denied even the truth of the sen- 
timents that he apparently accepted as genuine 
from other parties, and he was not sure of those 
motives which prompted his most serious ac- 
tions ; but he maintained his theories with such 


humorous originality, that people could not feel 
incensed even when he hit hardest, and a great 
many persons believed that he represented him- 
self to be a great deal worse than he really was. 

Lucien, who had a susceptible heart and one 
open to belief, with a temperament inclining to 
melancholy, bore with this character wonder- 
fully well, perhaps for the contrast it made with 
his own. They were, besides, intimate friends, 
and both young ; Charles who knew Naples as 
if he had inhabited it for twenty years, explain- 
ed to Lucien its mysteries so cheerfully that 
the latter never grew tired of listening to him. 

Sheldon’s conversation was lively, sparkling, 
and as clever as a chronique in any of the Pari- 
sian boulevard journals, and, thanks to it, he was 
welcome in every drawing room. 

But if Charles spoke much, Lucien spoke 
but little. Madame de Noirmou tiers was aston- 
ished to find him so little animated in conversa- 
tion, she, who was accustomed to the highest 
fiights of hyperbole in the language of an amor- 
ous vocabulary. As he had given proof of some 
spirit, she could not account for his reserve on 
the grounds of inability, and she felt strangely 
annoyed at the little use he made of the ad- 
jectival language of passion. Wherever he met 


77 


her, he bestowed the tenderest courtesy and most 
careful attentions upon her; but she wanted more 
than that. 

One night while in her box, at San Carlo’s, 
the conversation turned on the qualities that a 
lover could and would most desire in his mis- 
tress. Upon so delicate a text, we leave the 
reader to imagine what metaphors and fine il- 
lustrations embellished the conversation of the 
company. Their pictures were mirrors, in which 
Madame de Noirmou tiers saw her image reflect- 
ed. Lucien, who despised this kind of flattery, 
remained mute. 

When the company broke up, Madame de 
Noirmou tiers, filled with indignation, turned to- 
wards him : 

“Is it that because you do not think me 
either graceful or pretty,” said she to him, 
“that you keep so discreetly silent in such a 
discussion?” 

“ Quite the contrary, I assure you, ” exclaim- 
ed Lucien, astonished at this abrupt attack. 

“That is, at least, one trifling assurance to 
the contrary^ but you say it in a tone which 
proves to me that you do not think it.” 

“But, madam, what could make you believe 
that I had such execrable taste % ” 

“ Everything, it seems to me : your silence, 


78 


your seeming disdain, the care you take never to 
bestow in your conversation with me a loving 
phrase, a tender word. Have you ever perceiv- 
ed if I have fine eyes and a well formed waist ? 
Do you know if I sing sweetly — if I dance with 
grace? If you were asked if I had any wit, 
you would not positively know what answer to 
give, excejjt, however, your ideas on this may 
be such that you could not politely venture to 
manifest them ; and I am forced to believe that 
your opinion is an unfavorable one, since you 
do not give yourself the trouble to let me even 
suspect the contrary.’’ 

Lucien was dumfounded. Madame de Noir- 
mou tiers spoke with extreme vivacity, and with 
her pretty eye-brows knitted and her adorable 
mouth pouting, she afforded a study for an 
artist. 

“You see, you concealed yourself,” contin- 
ued she, whilst Lucien wondered at her ; but she 
now smiled, because she understood whence his 
silence proceeded. 

“Will you believe me, madam, if I tell you 
that my silence was caused by the fear that I 
might express too candidly the sentiments your 
presence excited in me ?” 

“ Not at all ; it is undoubtedly an ingenious 


79 


method of getting out of a difficulty ; but it is a 
worn out one, and I assure you it will need many 
other things to convince me. ” 

“ It is nevertheless the truth, madam ; but it 
is truth’s misfortune not to be believed. ” 

‘‘Could you not speak without stirring up 
the flame with which you threaten me 

“ISTo, madam, there are certain things that 
we cannot converse on coldly ; and I feel that if 
I give myself up to the charms that all breathe 
when near you and which your person exhales 
as a perfume, I will express a different senti- 
ment from admiration. It is because I feel too 
much perhaps, that I do not tell enough. ” 

“How!” exclaimed the marchioness, “you 
-will try to make me believe that if you have kept 
silent, it is because you were disposed to love 
me?” 

“No, madam, ” answered Lucien with a seri- 
ous voice. 

“Ah 1 ” ejaculated the marchioness, turning 
her eyes upon him in great astonishment. 

“You use a word which expresses a serious 
thing, and we speak too lightly of it to employ it 
in a chattering which the flrst duetto will efface 
from your memory. Besides, the love which I 
feel is of a nature so peculiar, ” added the young 


80 


man with, a smile, ‘‘so it is quite impossible that 
it should exist between us. ” 

“ It is then a love made to your image, ” said 
she ; “ something highly original ? ” 

“ It has, at least, the merit of not being very 
common ; but, indeed, I do not know how to ex- 
plain it to you. ” 

“ Is it then so very strange 
“No, but it is very embarrassing. ” 

‘ ‘Here is the prima donna who sings her cava- 
tina ; I will give her one ear, and risk the other 
to you, so that I shall only partly hear your dan- 
gerous confidences. ” 

“Be it so ; but I must go afterwards. ’’ 
“Take advantage of this trill and speak.” 
“Well then! madam, my love does not in- 
flame itself with hope, but is fired with remem- 
brance. ” 

Lucien glided to the door. Madame de Noir- 
moutiers timidly turned her head towards him ; 
she seemed still to interrogate him with her 
looks ; but the actress had ceased to sing, and 
as he passed the threshold of the loge^ he saw a 
rose veil conceal in its nice teints the shoulders 
and the neck of the marchioness, who lowered 
her eyes as he politely bowed to her. 

Immediately after his arrival at Naples, M. 


81 


de Yarny, found himself so irresistibly blended 
with the existence of Madame de Noirmou tiers, 
that the recollection of the past appeared to him 
as a confused dream. It seemed to him that he 
had only seriously begun to live, from the day 
that he had stopped at the osterla of the Arms of 
England. His letters were filled with this dispo- 
sition of mind, and M. de Yillaines congratula- 
ted himself on the conversion of his nephew, who 
promised to be to France a successor of M. de 
Talleyeand. Madame d’Astouans, who was 
also in correspondence with Lucien, saw more 
distinctly through the affair, and did not allow 
herself to be caught by this recently -born enthu- 
siasm for diplomacy. 

“ Your first letter., dear cousin., ” wrote ma- 
dam to him, one day, '‘'‘contained the name of 
Madame de Noirmoutiers twice; I smiled. Your 
second letter mentioned it four times ; I then 
suspected. But your third epistle presented it 
six times to my eyes ; I have no more douMs 
whatever. ” 

One night, in an assembly at the palace of the 
prince of Cassaro, then prime-minister, Charles, 
Lucien and their Neapolitan acquaintances, met 
in the galleries where the most aristocratic set 
was promenading. 


82 


Lucien, supporting himself against the rail- 
ing, was looking into the adjoining drawing- 
room. 

I believe there is something in this contem- 
plation, said Charles, offering his hand, ‘‘there 
is a magnetic current which commences with 
white shoulders, yonder, and finishes with a 
lover, here. ” 

M. de Varny, taken unawares, reddened. 

“Oh! do not answer,” remarked Mr. Shel- 
don, smiling, “you will tell me a lie. ” 

“ If I would make a confidant, would it be to 
you that I should be likely to address myself ? ” 
said Lucien, striving to dissimulate his annoy- 
ance. 

“Why notr’ 

“Do you remember what you have yourself 
confessed to me?” 

“Perfectly. But no matter! my rivalry is 
not of a sullen nature. Am I fool enough to 
pretend that your dear countrywoman does not 
appear beautiful to other persons as well as to 
myseK? Love her if it is your fancy, and try 
and be loved by her, and I shall give my applause 
to the conqueror. ” 

“So little of jealousy ! ” 

“I have no taste for the consequences of such 


83 


folly ! And then, shall I tell yon that ? I am a 
little similar to Larochefoucauld, that wise 
man who loved like a fool ! I think we can meet 
a woman who has not had any lovers ; but I 
maintain there is no one who has had only one.’’ 

‘‘Stop!” said Lucien peremptorily, “your 
sceptical coolness horrifies me. ” 

Mr. Sheldon stared astoundedly at him. 

“What have you suffered that you have be- 
come so cold a philosopher r’ added the secre- 
tary. 

“Not much of anything, indeed ; I have seen 
many people and have observed a little. But 
let me tell you, my dear fellow, that if you, a 
secretary of an embassy, are pleased to under- 
take gallantry as a serious affair, it must be be- 
cause you are curious to taste hell on earth. ” 

Lucien lowered his head. 

“Well; you do not say a word; that tells 
me very eloquently that you have already put 
your foot there. Ah ! you devote to this dear 
coquette the honors of a passion I At the pace 
you are going, you will not go far enough or you 
will go too far. ” 

As he was still speaking, Horace Didier, the 
painter, came and threw himself giddily into 
the conversation: 


84 


“I was sure of it, ” said he, ‘‘you are both 
enamored with Madame de Noirmoutiers. Like 
the Athenian who was tired of hearing the popu- 
lace call Aristides the Just^ I begin to be weary 
of hearing her called the Dimne. ’ ’ 

“Let us have a little less haughtiness !” ex- 
claimed Charles, laughing, “it is not so long 
ago, my dear painter, that your brush, your pal- 
lette and your heart were at the feet of the mar- 
chioness. ” 

“And I do not intend to deny that ; I adored 
her as an artist. ” 

“Was it love of the art that made you sigh 
in her boudoir and walk under her balcony 

‘ ‘Undoubtedly; I saw in her a beautiful model 
to hang up in the Louvre. The proof, gentle- 
men, is that I have asked her the favor to sit for 
me upon a divan, as the Princess Borghese did 
for Can^ova. ” 

“You have proposed it to her?” exclaimed 
Lucien. 

“ Certainly, yes. ” 

“And what answer did she give you? ’ 

“ She hesitated at first ; there is some artist’s 
blood in the veins of this woman ; but the thought 
of the world came to darken the poetry of my 
proposition, and she finished by refusing. You 


85 


lost then a Yenns of the Albaiste, gentlemen, 
signed Horace Didier. ” 

Lncien was going away, his heart full of 
emotion, when the artist laid his hand on his arm 
and stopped him. 

“One word, M. de Yarny, I pray you ; if I 
had known your address I should have been at 
your house sometime ago. ” 

“At my house ! and why, sir ? ” 

“Have you any enemies ? ” 

“ I am not aware that I have. ” 

“Then, you have some. Be on your guard 
when you find yourself at night on the streets 
there are some folks in town who have a grudge 
against your life. ’’ 

‘ ‘ Who told you that T ’ 

“My ears : I heard yesterday a conversation 
between a scoundrel with a forbidding face and 
a man dressed as a fisherman, but whose appear- 
ance and manner proved him to belong to a 
higher grade of society than that of a toiler of 
the deep, from which it is evident to me there is 
some evil in store for you.” 

“ What did they say ? ” 

“ I heard but little, but I caught the words : 
Lucien^ stiletto and ducats. This trilogy seemed 
to me to be of dismal augury. Take good care 
of yourself, M. de Yarny. ” 


86 


‘‘Thank you, sir. ” 

When he left the palace of the prince of Cas- 
saro, Lucien had already forgotten the advice of 
the artist. Just as he was about to enTer his own 
house a footman, whose livery was disguised 
under a large cloak, slipped a note into his hand. 

Lucien opened the billet, which contained 
only these words : 

I ham just arrived from the hall; a letter 
given me obliges my instant recourse to a 
friend; I have thought of you. Do I act 
wrong in obeying the voice which suggests 
to me your namef Come immediately ; do not 
lose a moment., and you will then know what 
is expected of you: “Th. de N.” 

M. de Yarny kissed the initials, and quickly 
directed his steps towards the mansion of the 
marchioness. Some dark and tortuous streets 
separated their residences. His mind was too full 
of the thought as to what could she want of he 
whom she was pleased to call her friend, to sus- 
pect any wrong. However, after turning two or 
three lanes, he thought he observed a shadow 
following his steps, keeping close to the houses. 
He thought, at first, that it was some lazzaroni 
in good luck ; then he suddenly remembered 
the words of Horace Hidier. In crossing a nar- 


87 


row place, where the clearness of the Italian night 
was as transparent as our twilight, he lost sight 
of the shadow ; but as he walked through an 
angular street, he saw it again, gliding along a 
wall, and then it vanished. Lucien had no arms, 
but he was confident and brave ; he took the 
middle of the street, but closely watched the 
dark sinuosities of the walls. A man was squat- 
ted in a corner where the gloom was heavy. As 
Lucien went by, the man sprang out and his 
arm, carrying a gleaming stiletto, descended ; 
but M. de Yarny quickly sprang aside ; and the 
weapon buried itself in his cloak. Seizing the 
bandit by the throat and waist at the same mo- 
ment, Lucien threw him down. In falling, the 
assassin released his stiletto ; Lucien, who was 
as agile as vigorous, picked it up and placed its 
sharp point to the breast of the villain : 

‘ ‘ I will kill you if you move, ’ ’ he said to him. 

‘‘ Per Bacco!^^ gasped the assassin, ‘‘you 
hold me in such a manner as to prevent all such 
inclination ; your fingers are of iron. ” 

Lucien loosened the hand that was strang- 
ling the bandit. 

“ Take care of yourself. If you stir you are 
dead, ” said he. 

“ I will not stir. 


88 


“You promise not to do so ? ” 

“ I swear it to you ! ’’ 

“ An oatli ! I like something else better. ” 

“ By the faith of a bandit ! ” 

“ I accept ; rise up ! 

Touched by this proof of confidence, the ban- 
dit rose up and stood with his arms folded, mo- 
tionless, in front of Lucien. 

“You can now lead me to the bar gelid 
said he, “if it seems good to you; it is your 
right. ’’ 

“I know it, ” returned Lucien, “but I shall 
not use it. ” 

“ Dime ejaculated the wonder-struck ruf- 
fian, “you are a noble cavalier! It would have 
been a pity had I killed you. It is evidently 
Saint Gaspard, my patron, who has caused me 
to fail. ’’ 

“ Who paid you to try to murder me ? ” de- 
manded Lucien. 

The bandit put his hand into his pointed 
beard. 

“I have received some money, I must keep 
secret about it, ’’ said he after a minute medi- 
tation ; “ if I spoke, it would not be fair... Guess 
it, if you can. ” 

“I will consider it directly ; take this, save 
yourself ; I heard a patrol. ” 


89 


What is this you give me 
[ “A few ducats ; you must not lose your time 
I for nothing. ’’ 

The bandit looked stupified at Lucien for a 
I second, then, with a great oath, exclaimed : 

' “You are a splendid lord! If ever you 
j have any need of Gaspard the dragoon, write to 
I the osteria of the Great- Saint- James, close by 
I Portici, and if I am not dead, count on me ; you 
j need only have to place your enemy within the 
I range of my rifle. ” 

‘ ‘ Thank you, I have my sword, ’ ’ replied Lu- 
cien scornfully. 

“ As you will, my lord, but it is all the same ; 
if you do not write to me, I have an idea that 
an opportunity will be found to pay you back, 
some day or other. ’’ 

His encounter with the bandit made Lucien 
conceive some serious doubts as to the authenti- 
city of the note signed “ Th. de H. The night 
was passing on ; he would adjourn his visit till 
the next day. 

The following day he presented himself before 
Madame de Hoirmoutiers, to whom he gave the 
mysterious note. 

“ What means this practical joke said the 
marchioness. 


90 


‘‘It is a joke that has seriously injured my 
mantle,” answered Lucien, and he gave her the 
account of his encounter with Gaspard. 

Madame de JSToirmoutiers shivered at the nar- 
ration of the danger which Lucien had so nar- 
rowly escaped. 

“ It is a lesson, ” added M. de Yarny ; “ it is 
what we gain when we have the conceit to believe 
that we can be ranked amongst your friends.” 

The marchioness presented him her hand ; he 
kissed it, but he replied : 

‘ ‘ I should have understood that, as I could 
not appreciate your exact value, it was folly 
and presumption for me to wish to be ranked 
amongst your friends. Must I acknowledge to 
you that my joy was so great on first reading 
this paper, that in my rapture I pressed it to 
my lips, so much of foolishness is there sometimes 
in even the most sober men ^ But confess to me, 
in your turn, what you would have thought had 
I been killed ; would you not have said that it 
was only what I deserved ? ‘The fop !’ you would 
say, ‘ wliy did he imagine that he was in a posi- 
tion to do a service to me, to me ! the marchioness 
de Noirmoutiers, who keeps Naples under her 
feet 'i ’ And, perhaps, in sounding the bottom of 
your heart, you would even feel a secret satisfac- 


I 

i 

i — — 

I tion in my permanent retirement. Firstly, I did 
not admire yon enough, and next, the death of a 
man killed for a young lady’ s sake would weave 
around her handsome forehead a crown which, 
though doleful, would not be less glorious.” 

Whilst Lncien was speaking, in animated 
tones, without being conscious of it, Madame de 
Noirmontiers kept her head inclined upon her 
breast. When he concluded, she raised it up ; 
her eyes suffused with tears. 

“You are cruel, M. de Yarny ; what have I 
I done to give you this opinion of my heart ? and 
' why do you accuse me of such callousness 
■ “Because I love you ! ” answered Lncien, 
pale with suppressed emotion. 

At those words, which were as pleasing to her 
ear as sweet music, Madame de ISToirmoutiers 
became a woman again. Her tears, limpid pearls 
' upon a rosy cheek, stopped themselves at the 
( smiling corners of her mouth. 

I “You LOVE me!” said she; “Ah! the re- 
membrance has allowed itself then to be conquer- 
ed by hope?” 

“I have no hope, madam, and that proves 
how I love you ; and if I may be daring enough 
I to form a wish, it will be that this love may find 
I you ever insensible to its passion. ’ ’ 


92 


‘‘Ah ! ” observed madam, “it is some more 
originality I may expect, is it ? 

“It is a serious prayer, yet may it please 
God that this love, as it has had no past, may 
have no future. ” 

“ I imagine, ” said Madame de Noirmoutiers 
with an expression which imperfectly concealed 
her vexation, “that I have in this affair as much 
concern as God, and I can give you this com- 
forting consolation that your prayer will be 
heard favorably. I shall use all my endeavors 
at least, and I think it will not be necessary to 
make a great exertion, sir. ” 

“I hope not, madam. However the future 
does not belong to us, and I am certain that if 
you loved me one day, this divine happiness 
would be paid by eternal despair. Now, I con- 
fess to you, I have some fear. ” 

“Be easy ; I have no interest in tormenting 
you. ’ ’ 

“Oh! madam, are you ignorant that a wo- 
man’s heart is a labyrinth where chance keeps 
the thread V’ 

“ I shall so act that it will not go astray. ” 

“ I pray you may, for if I were to pick it up, 
it would become fatal to me. ” 

“Other men then have not this fear, ” said 


I 


93 


the marchioness, becoming more and more an- 
noyed. 

‘‘Pardon me, madam, but you constrain me 
almost to tell you what is loathsome : it is that 
nobody loves you as I do.” 

“You were right in keeping this from me, 
for what you now tell me is very common and 
very much worn out. ’ ’ 

“I know it ; all men have the presumption 
to believe that they love better than anyone 
else in the world ; but the one that you shall 
love, whoever he may be, will be the victim of 
I a fatality which is in yourself and which has 
its source in your pride. ” 

“ Oh ! really ! ” 

' “You adore yourself too much to love long. ’ ’ 

( “ Give me my equal, and I will love !” said 

j she proudly, fixing upon Lucien her eyes, spark- 
j ling with anger. 

j “ Woe be, then, to the one who shall realize 
[ this dream of your heart ! ” added Lucien with 
I a smile full of sadness. “ Your love will be like 
j Vesuvius, much lava, then ashes. The dream 
! shall come from heaven, but on awaking you 
I will shatter the idol. ” 

“ It is said that it was in the power of Cleo- 
patra to find kings who would sacrifice their 


94 


thrones to reign one day near her, and who, 
at even snch a price, would not have regretted 
it. You suppose I have the pride of Cleo- 
PATEA, allow me, M. de Yarny, to have all her 
presumption.” 

“From you, madam,” gently replied Lucien, 
suddenly altering his manner and language and 
taking her white hand which she let him kiss 
without making too much resistance, “from 
you, madam, we accept everything, even for- 
getfulness. ” 

“Would it be because it carried away the 
idea of the past?” answered Madame de Noir- 
mou tiers, flattered into better humor by Lucien’ s 
last remark. 

Lucien kept silent, but his looks spoke more 
eloquently than his tongue could have done. 

Never had the marchioness felt so agitated 
as she did after this visit, and the conversation- 
which followed it. She kept going in and out 
of her room, now irritated, then smiling, hum- 
ming a cavatina or letting her snowy Angers run 
along the ivory keys of the piano ; she would 
call her maid to dress her and then send her back 
abruptly ; look at her face in the mirror, then 
put on and take off half-a-dozen night-caps; 
draw her hand across her burning forehead and 
complain of the cold. At last, weary and faint. 


95 


slie threw herself on a settee, and, closing her 
eyes, fell into a deep revery such as never yet 
had disturbed her joyful heart. 

Of what was she thinking ? — She thought of 
nothing and of everything ; or of what can be 
best translated by these words : She was think- 
ing OF HIM. 


Chaptee YI. 

What La Toresilla was. — A meeting of friends. — Lucien embarks 
in a strange enterprise. — The actress’ balcony. — How Lucien’s 
adventure ended. — “Gentlemen, breakfast 1” 

^ T this time there was a singer in Naples 
named La Toresilla, who was attached to 
San Carlo’s theatre. She was a woman of aver- 
age beauty, and of rather meagre ability. How- 
ever, she caused considerable excitement, enjoy- 
ed a large following, and was, in some respects, 
the rival of Madame de Noirmoutiers in renown. 
This rivalry the noble marchioness did not ac- 
knowledge in any way, and when she did not 
notice it who else could ? When she spoke of La 
Toresilla, it would be with a shrug of the shoul- 
ders and a look sovereignly disdainful. It would 
be hard to explain whence the fame of the singer 


96 


proceeded. Her expressionless face indifferent 
repartees and a voice of suspicious pureness 
were not worth the attention they so much en- 
grossed. But there are in all large cities where 
foreigners, money and luxury abound, some of 
those queens of fashion whom fortune elevates, 
and accident immolates. They do not ask the 
cause ; there is none : they are simply what they 
are, because they are. It was an adventure 
with a German duke that gave LaToresilla a 
reputation for intrigue ; and, from that day, she 
firmly maintained the position in which she had 
placed herself, without really thinking of it. 

This state of affairs had been going on for 
two or three years, when Lucien arrived in Nap- 
les. La Toresilla had eaten up the fortunes of 
two or three scions of families, and severely cur- 
tailed the patrimony of five or six noble travel- 
ers. The gilded youth of Naples and foreigners 
of distinction had introduced themselves at her 
house ; because, like some actresses of times 
past and present she gave fine feasts and bril- 
liant suppers. As a natural consequence, there- 
fore, many paid court to her^ but, most strange 
to say, very few were able to ingratiate them- 
selves into her good graces. La Toresilla was, 
in her way, an eccentric person. Her position 


97 


had inflated her with great vanity, which led 
her to believe that she was worth the most mar- 
vellous sacriflces and the most gigantic efforts. 
It conld be plainly seen by her manners that she 
reasoned to herself, like Madame de Noirmon- 
tiers, whose reputation for beauty and wit made 
her despair. Men could ruin themselves to please 
her fancy, without attaining it ; the most costly 
cashmeres seemed to her only good enough to 
wipe her shoes. But, in revenge, they would 
succeed with her by a glance, a word, a gesture 
and those other unknown means which seem to 
i affect the most invulnerable hearts of those wo- 
men, who are corrupted by voluptuous habits. 
M. de Yarny had been led to her house by 
Charles ; but although he had been perfectly 
\ well received, he returned there but seldom, not- 
I withstanding that he was earnestly solicited to 
' do so by Mr. Sheldon, who could not conceive 
how love could remove the idea of pleasure. 

Now, it happened one night that Lucien be- 
ing with a dozen other idlers at Max de Bheiss’ 
residence, the conversation turned upon La Tore- 
silla. They were at table, and by the number 
of empty bottles on the side-board, it could be 
easily seen that they had drunk plentifully. 


98 


The conversation showed the effects of their 1 

■j 

state of mind and of the subject of debate. 

“To the devil with the proud minx ! ” cried 
Orlando the huntsman, “ for a fortnight I have' 
been courting her, and I am just as far advanced 
in her good graces as the first hour ! ’ ’ 

“Let us clasp hands on that, ” chimed in, 
Horace Didier ; ^ Vith the licence of a domino at 
the carnival of Paris, I confess to you, although ! 
I am a painter, she actually made me sit down 
three days. As I was reproaching her to-day 
for her cruelty, telling her that between artists ? 
such a thing should not be done, she answered : | 
“Of what then do you complain, yourself?” ; 
playing upon the words. 

‘ ‘ I was near going farther, ’ ’ said Rafael Ras- 
conti, eyeing Lucien, who had kept silent about 
their encounter and recent adventure, and who 
continued to meet him everywhere. “But the j 
upshot of it was that, a caprice has undone what 
a caprice had accomplished. ” 

“ Tell us the caprice, almost happy lieuten- 
ant, ” said Lucien. \ 

“A knot of jonquille ribbon had put me in ’ 
favor with the signora ; a knot of arrow lilac i 
ribbon has caused her to close the door of her 
boudoir to me. ” i 


“This woman herself is a Gordian knot 
exclaimed Max, whose red face shone as the up- 
per shell of a lobster.” 

“If the Bavarian makes wit, what will the 
Frenchman do ? ” said Charles. 

“He will drink,” remarked Max, emptying 
a bottle into the glass of his neighbor and then 
filling his own. “Can you believe that I, Max 
Baron de Bheiss, in one of those moments when 
the excited soul gives birth to the most chir- 
merical projects — ” 

“After dinner ! ” interrupted Lucien. 

“ At this hour, when we dream of the impos- 
sible,” continued Max, “ I offered my hand to 
La Toresilla.” 

“Your hand!” exclaimed Horace Didier, 
Tvith assumed indignation, ‘ ‘ the hand of a baron 
to this queen of side-scenes ? But it was dispar- 
agingly, my dear fellow, and you did not think 
of the Holy-Empire ! ” 

“Certainly, I had forgotten it,” gravely an- 
swered Max, swallowing his glass at a gulp ; 
“however she refused, telling me that all the 
baronies of Rheiss in the world, would not be 
sufficient to pay for her gallery of pictures.” 

‘ ^ I have loved her, ’ ’ said Antonio, in his turn. 

“They pretend that you were not even in- 
different to her,” added Charles. 


100 


“It is a slander. It is for want of a coat 
tliat I have not been happy.” 

“ Explain the enigma ! ” cried several voices. 

“Yon please me very much, said LaTore- 
silla to me one night, and I am sure that I would 
love you, if you wore the Lancer’s uniform.” 
I changed to that regiment to please her, but 
when I presented myself in my new costume, 
she then loved only the Hussars.” 

‘ ‘ To whom does she belong ? ’ ’ asked Orlando. 

“You should rather say : ‘ Who belongs to 
her ? ’ ” answered Charles. 

“This must be understood everywhere,” ex- 
claimed the painter, “in Paris as in Naples.” 

“They spoke of a great personage, some 
charge W affaires of the northern courts,” said 
Kaf ael, ‘ ‘ but as that personage belongs to deplo- 
macy, let us not speak of him.” 

“Do not speak of him if you like,” said Ho- 
race, “but let us supplant him.” 

“Pshaw ! ” said an attache of the Austrian 
legation, “to attempt, is to miscarry.” 

“I have lost by it twenty sonnets and ten 
days,” observed an Ahte, 

“ I really do not perceive what difficulty there 
is in it,” said Lucien, “for from what you say, 
I do not think La Toresilla so hard a conquest.” 


101 


‘‘Try,’^ said Orlando. 

‘‘It would be a task the success of which 
would not repay me ; but it seems to me that if 
I was very anxious, I would not take so long a 
time as you have.” 

“ You ! my dear friend,” exclaimed Charles, 

‘ ‘you, who are really the most captivating man in. 
existence ! It is really a joke ! It is positively re- 
freshing to know how charming you are in the 
eyes of the fair sex.” 

“You laugh at ourselves,” said Kafael. 

“ Not at all, and I will make you see, if you 
care for it, that a secretary, reserved and unob- 
trusive though he be, can go farther than a 
dragoon.” 

“ I challenge you on it ! ” 

“I accept.” 

“ Hurrah ! ” cried Max. “ The vanquished 
will be at the expense of a dinner at Ginello’s, 
the divine caterer. Vce metis 

‘ ‘ How much time do you want 1 ’ ’ said Or- 
lando. 

‘ ‘ What will it please you to grant me ? A few 
days, if Max is not very hungry, or a few hours, 
if he is still thirsty ? ” 

“ Choose ! ” said Charles. 

“ I will take a few hours, at least as I do not 
wish to waste time thinking about it.” 


102 


‘‘Agreed,” said the painter. “If audacity 
is worth the victory, you will surely have it.” 

“When shall the attack begin ?” asked Max. 

“ Instantly,” answered Lucien. 

“A moment, gentlemen,” said Orlando just 
as all were rising up ; “who will give us the proof 
of success ? ’ ’ 

“La Toresilla, herself,” replied Lucien. 
“Have you then lived so little in the world, as 
to have to learn that it is not the men who are 
indiscreet ? ” . 

“Let us do better,” said Charles. La Tore- 
silla was wearing to-night with the Assyrian 
cuirass, in Semir amides^ a knot of purple rib- 
bon round her waist ; you know that she is ac- 
customed to leave the theatre without undress- 
ing herself. The cuirass and the knot must be 
with her at her villa. Let M. de Yarny bring 
us the knot, and we will accept it as an earnest 
of the feast.” 

“ Be it so, gentlemen,” said Lucien. 

For a youth who had no pretentions to Don 
Juanism, Lucien came to embark in a singu- 
lar adventure ; but there is nothing more terrible, 
than, the way in which, reserved characters and 
timid hearts go quickly to the verge of extrava- 
gancy, when once they are pushed beyond their 


103 


accustomed limits. Moreover, the champagne 
had excited Lucien who was, at certain hours, 
capable of doing the most eccentric actions with 
the most surprising coolness. He had this even- 
ing talked much and mixed his wines ; Madame 
de Hoirmoutiers had treated him badly enough 
during the day, and his love affair was also dis- 
turbing his mind. 

They saw that he was in the best condition 
to carry his folly out to the end. 

To tell the truth, he did not know himself 
how he would get out of it ; but he counted a 
little on his own ingenuity and much more on 
good fortune to aid him. Besides he knew that 
La Toresilla was of an eccentric disposition, and 
with women of this character the chapter of ac- 
cidents is infinite. 

So wrapping around him the cloak which he 
had worn to the ball previous to the supper, and 
rolling up a big pie in a flap of the robe, he 
gravely got down, saddled his horse and start-, 
ed out as resolutely as possible on his gallant 
expedition. 

The company followed him across the coun- 
try, each one ready to burst with laughter. 

The night advanced ; a capricious breeze 
caused a white streak to undulate around the 


104 


summit of the antique Vesuvius ; the sea, reflect- 
ing the sparks, caressed the shore, and the clear- 
ness of the atmosphere was such, that one could 
hear the songs of the flshermen at a great dis- 
tance off. 

When they arrived near the villa, the caval- 
cade held counsel. 

^‘In my quality of general-in-chief,” said 
Lucien, ‘‘I dismiss my army and allow it to 
rendez-mus at the^ first inn.” 

‘‘ At the tavern yonder?” said Max, point- 
ing with his finger to a house which bore on its 
front the symbolical branch of pine. 

“ Good luck ! ” said the troop as they turn- 
ed their bridles. 

Lucien, leapt over the space which separated 
him still from the gardens of the villa. A bal-, 
cony ornamented with cases of flowers and 
where sparkled the light of a lamp, indicated to 
him the apartment of La Toresilla ; and towards 
this he directed his steps. 

Two huge watch dogs began suddenly to bark 
in an alarming manner. 

Lucien collected a few large stones and climb- 
ed upon the wall that enclosed the gardens. 
When the dogs saw him appear, a leg on this 
side and one on the other, they jumped towards 


105 


Mm, howling ; Lucien took his pie and threw it 
as far as he could. The pie broke in falling, and 
the dogs, having tasted some pieces of it, found 
it so much to their liking, that they each took 
a part and carried it to their kennel. 

‘‘ It is a somewhat mythological action,” said 
Lucien to himself. 

A man servant who was reclining close by 
was awakened by the noise ; he got out from the 
nook where he was watching the espaliers of the 
actress ; but when he saw, by the light of the 
stars, this black shadow astride the wall, he felt 
a trembling in the knees and his teeth commen- 
ced chattering. 

As Lucien started to jump, his robe spread 
out, so as to give him the appearance of a figure 
of such large proportions, that the guard taking 
him for a spectre, crossed himself and ran as 
quick as he could, without uttering a word ; fear 
having taken his breath away. 

Lucien put back into his pockets the ducats 
he had drawn out. 

When he found himself under the balcony, 
he became troubled ; the dogs might come back 
and the servant arouse the house ; he must make 
haste. At this moment, the light which glitter- 
ed behind the window of La Toresilla began to 


106 


moye. An invisible band was conveying it hith- 
er and thither; then the mobile blinds half -open- 
ed, and a sweet voice cried into the night : 

‘‘Pablo I Pablo!’’ 

Pablo was too frightened to answer; he was 
still running. 

“Pablo I ” repeated the voice, and a woman’s 
head appeared with her hair streaming down. 

“Pablo is gone away,” said Lucien, show- 
ing himself. 

“Oh!” exclaimed the lady, and she with- 
drew quickly. 

“ Let not the divine La Toresilla be frighten- 
ed,” said the adventurer, ‘ ‘ he who speaks to you 
does not care to act the part of a bandit.” 

Lucien noticed the blind move ; the lady was 
listening ; fear yielding to curiosity. He con- 
tinued : 

“Calm yourself, madam, you need have no 
fear, it is a surprising adventure that brings me 
here, a marvellous adventure on which depends 
the honor of a gentleman. Hear me ! ” 

“Who are youP’ the actress said at last. 

“Lucien de Yarny.” 

“The secretary of the French embassy?” 

“ The same, carrissima dona.^'" 

“But, sir,” said La Toresilla showing her 


107 


head, her neck and naked arms, ‘‘yon are a fool ; 
the dogs will devour yon.” 

“That is what may happen to me shortly ; 
hut at present they are busy dispatching a pie 
I threw to them.” 

The actress began to laugh. 

‘ ‘ Hark ! do you hear them ? they are lighting 
for what remains,” continued he. 

“ Go then very quickly.” 

“ That is not my business ; and the service 
that I have to claim from your gracious kind- 
ness, what will become of it?” 

“It will go with you and pay me a visit to- 
morrow.” 

“Ho ; it is much better to ask your hospi- 
tality, now.” 

“This is a jest, M. de Yarny,” replied La 
Toresilla ; but her voice was not an angry one. 

The situation looked exceeding romantic and 
original to her ; she thought of Almaviva and of 
Kosine. 

“So,” answered Lucien, “as you will not 
help me, heaven will.” 

He instantly made the best of a trellis placed 
against the wall, and catching the grape vine, 
clambered up towards the balcony, which he 
rapidly scaled. 


108 


The dogs were quickly on his heels ; their | 
sight inspired such a terror to LaToresilla, that |, 
she lowered her fine arms, and charitably help- j 
ed M. de Vamy up. | 

Lucien raised up the blind and penetrated 1 
into the apartment, which was illumined by a 
splendid Etruscan lamp of curious workman- 
ship. 

La Toresilla stood up in his presence, cover- ! 
ed with a wrapper in which she had rapidly | 
dressed herself, her naked feet were covered with | 
velvet slippers, her hair half -unrolled floated on 
her shoulders, blushing, affectedly and gazing 
at him. 

A charming confusion gave to the room of the 
actress a coquettish appearance ; the costume of 
Arcacius was sparkling on a desk of ebony, above 
which smiled a divine madona of Guido. At 
the other end of the room, and as a companion 
to the madona, a Venus of Titian displayed its 
lewd proportions in a golden frame. The atmos- 
phere was impregnated with the balsaniic per- 
fume of the orange and jasmine. 

Lucien looked around him, forgetting the mo- 
tive that brought him there ; without thinking 
of it, he laid aside his cloak, and, throwing him- 
self on an ottoman, he respired at full the warm 
and voluptuous air which filled the room. 


109 


La Toresilla anxiously waited ; at last, seeing 
that he did not speak, she decided to break the 
silence herself. 

“I crave your pardon, M. de Yarny, if I in- 
terrupt your reverie,” said she ; ‘‘but can I know 
what brought you here and what you want 

Lucien, suddenly recalled to a recollection of 
his peculiar position, looked at her, and, without 
evincing astonishment, candidly answered : 

“I know nothing of it, madam.” 

This was said with so simple an air and with 
so much good nature, that the singer, never 
thought of feeling vexed, but laughed heartily 
at his coolness. 

Lucien let her laugh ; as it gave him time to 
reflect. 

“And it is for this that you have left Naples 
in the middle of the night and in this costume V ’ 
replied she, when her hilarity was at last ap- 
peased. 

“My faith ! madam, we make some longer 
journeys for poorer results. Have I not seen 
you ?” 

“But this great service, sir, this adventure 
on which was depending the honor of a gentle- 
man ? ” 

“ That will be a fable or a truth, just as you 
fancy.” 


110 


“I think it would be more true to make a 
pretext of it ? ” 

‘‘ As it pleases you. I will inform you then 
that being at table to-night with some friends, 
one of them, who is also your friend, Charles 
Sheldon, proved to me that I was amorous of 
you. To tell the truth I had not perceived it, 
but there is nothing so terrible as the evil we 
ignore.” 

“And that is why you are here 

“I was anxious to be the first to impart to 
you this discovery.” 

“ It is an attention for which I am infinitely 
obliged.” 

‘ ‘ I have not yet told you all. Shall I acquaint 
you with the accidental causes which decided 
this journey ? ” 

“ But, sir, you forget that it is late and that 
I want sleep.” 

“ So much the better, my story will make yon 
sleep.” 

We have said that Lucien had some wit, and 
that he was one of those diplomates who affect 
that frankness which is so serviceable in politics 
and in love. He, therefore, in keeping with this 
character, set himself to relate the story just as 
it occurred, not omitting any detail, neither his 


Ill 


boasting, or the bet which had followed it, or 
the pledge of success ; but he did it with a 
wonderful impulse and admirable cheerfulness. 
LaToresilla had too much taste for the eccentric 
to be irritated against Lucien. She listened to 
him complaisantly, and carelessly abandoned 
her hand to him. 

But, we must tell all ; had Lucien possessed 
the wit of Voltaire and the rapture of Dide- 
rot, he would have produced but very little ef- 
effect upon the singer, if he had not had the re- 
putation of being posted in the graces of Madame 
de N oirniou tiers who, as we know, was the hete 
noire of LaToresilla. The actress knew this ; so, 
while M. de Varny was talking, she began to 
consider that it would be pleasant to raise her 
cicisbeo at the great lady. Such a thought rip- 
ened very fast in the head of such a woman after 
midnight ; besides, Lucien seemed to her an orig- 
inal young man ; his frankness was not accord- 
ing to the customs of a rake and gave her a high 
idea of the boldness of his character ; she con- 
cluded by asking herself if it would not be bet- 
ter to let him win his bet. 

A noise of voices whispering was heard in the 
garden ; the limpid light of the alb filtrating 
through the blind. 


112 


‘ ‘Madam, ’ ’ said Lucien smiling, ‘ ‘I will ascend 
my calvary, if you let me descend this balcony.’^ 
“ Your friends are there ? ” 

“ They wait for me, and you will learn what 
you are still ignorant of — the manner in which 
they applaud a fall. 

Lucien made one step towards the window. 
LaToresilla made a sign with her hand. He stop- 
ped. She raised herself, ran to the desk, lifted 
the blind and appeared at the balcony. 

The troop, led by Max, saluted her with cheers. 
LaToresilla bowed, placed her hand upon 
her heart as if she had been before an audience. 
Then, drawing the knot of purple ribbon off her 
breast, she threw it to them, crying: “Gentle- 
men, breakfast I M. de Yarny thanks you.” 




Chapter YII. 

The day after the victory. — Conversation betireen Madame de 
Noirmoutiers and Rafael Rasconti. — In the Abruzzo. — The 
storm ; the hostelry ; the bandits. — The aspect of the osteria. — 
The artist Horace Didier and An encounter in the Abruzzo . — 
Madame de Noirmoutiers sings with success the Puritani cava- 
tina. — The highwayman Giacomo’s justice. — Rafael Rasconti 
re-appears. — Departure from the Abruzzo. — The dangers of the 
road. — Gaspard and Rafael ; the latter’s death. — The re-entry 
in Naples. 

t EFORE noon the next day, the adventure 
was known in every cafe and boudoir of 
Naples. Hawked about by scores of mouths 
everywhere, it had, in one hour, made the rounds 
of the town, and, as usually in the case with such 
stories, had assumed colossal proportions. It 
was spoken of at the Hoyal palace and at the 
theatre, at the business places and in the draw- 
ing-rooms. We leave the reader to imagine the 
manner of Lucien’s reception, when he re-ap- 
peared in public ; his entry to the banquet was a 
most enthusiastic and triumphant one. It rest- 
ed only with himself to believe that he had 
grown to the stature of a Richelieu, and, had 
he been cursed with vanity, he would have lost 
his head in the midst of the commotion his pre- 
sence caused. 

He had, however, too easily discovered the 
causes of his easy victory to feel proud of it ; 


114 


besides, tbe thought of Madame de Noirmou- 
tiers troubled him and made the cup of flattery 
bitter to his lips. His triumph, instead of elat- 
ing, grieved him, and Mr. Sheldon had little 
difficulty in guessing the truth in the midst of 
the torrent of words with which Lucien tried to 
shake off his after thoughts. 

‘‘You are afraid,” said Sheldon, “and your 
own laurels will prevent you sleeping.” 

“You are a rival to whom I can avow this 
thing,” answered Lucien ; “yes I have a fear. 
What will this triumph bring to me ? ” 

“ Who knows that ! The marchioness is of a 
character to lead astray all the CEdipuses of 
psychology. Are you lost ? Are you saved ? Seri- 
ous questions ! Perhaps you are neither saved, 
nor lost.” 

“ What am I then 1 ” 

“ Nothing ; what you were yesterday. Ma- 
dame de Noirmoutiers stands upon so high a 
pedestal, that from her elevation it is possible 
that she does not see LaToresilla.” 

That very night, Lucien met the marchioness 
at the hotel of the English embassador ; all the 
ladies were whispering and looking at him. M. 
de Yarny bore his triumph as an affliction ; 
Madame de Noirmoutiers only seemed to know 


115 


nothing ; she received him with the same grace 
and spoke to him with the same intimacy. Ln- 
cien felt annihilated under her magnificent dis- 
dain ; he had counted upon a little bit of spite 
and he met the most absolute indifierence. This 
night, then, the kind regard of the marchioness 
dispelled all his hopes. For a moment he wrestled 
with the idea that this indifference was affected ; 
in the midst of the ball a word extinguished 
this last gleam of hope in the heart of Lucien. 

“There is much talk of a romantic adven- 
ture, M. de Varny,” said she to him, “that you 
have had with LaToresilla, the fame of which has 
spread far and wide. You will please relate it to 
me to-morrow.” 

These words were uttered with so calm a 
voice, with such quiet regard, so easy a smile, 
that Lucien was at a loss what answer to give. 

“Proud as Prometheus ! ” said he, following 
her with his eye, as she left the drawing-room. 
Charles told the truth. LaToresilla has no exist- 
ence in her eyes. 

It will be thought perhaps that Lucign’ s mor- 
tification was caused by ill disguised pride. 
The majority of men are affected by this feel- 
ing, but they are generally able to conceal more 
discreetly their stronger passions, excited no 


116 


doubt by tbe striking examples of vanity they 
receive from tkeir dear consorts. 

But what became of Lucien the following day, 
when Madame de Noirmou tiers heard his story 
with all the manifestations of the liveliest amuse- 
ment, as if it had concerned a man who had not 
loved her and whom she had not known. 

‘‘ I have not even affected the surface of this 
heart,” said Lucien sadly to himself. 

The marchioness roused him from his revery 
to ask him if his new amour would prevent him 
accepting an invitation, that she had thought of 
extending to him since a short time ago. It was 
to go, with a congenial company, to visit one of 
her estates in the Abruzzo, some thirty leagues 
distant from Naples. 

‘‘The country is picturesque,” said she to 
him ; ‘ ‘ you will find there a savage population, 
interesting to curious travelers, and plenty of 
game. We shall stay there a few days, and 
Naples will seem to you more ravishing on your 
return.” 

Lucien accepted. 

“ But have you no fear,” remarked madam, 
“that LaToresilla will forget you during your 
absence ?” 

“ It is my wish.” 


117 


‘‘Why?” 

Lucien took the marchioness’ hand and car- 
ried it to his lips. 

Madame deNoirmoutiers guessed his thought. 

“Oh !” said she “no matter ! the day that 
I shall abdicate, I know that the empire wiR 
wholly belong to me. Can LaToresilla be a rival?’ ’ 

But, as is the case with women, Madame de 
Noirmoutiers told the truth, but notaZZ the truth. 

The excursion which she had projected, to take 
place in a few weeks was hastened on, imme- 
diately after Lucien’ s freak was noised abroad. 
On hearing this news, she felt a certain emotion 
which though was not lively enough to manifest 
itself by exterior signs but which, nevertheless 
made her anxious to leave Naples. She would 
have been unable to define the motive that in- 
spired her, but she obeyed it without refiection, 
and M. de Yarny’s acceptance greatly affect- 
ed her. 

The abruptness of the marchioness’ departure 
disconcerted the plans of those who should have 
accompanied her, and it was found, when all was 
ready, that the company was reduced to a lady 
relative, to a big baron who held a position in the 
king’ s household, to his wife, to Horace Didier 
and to Lucien de Yamy. Max de Eheiss, Char- 


118 


les Sheldon, Orlando Zacari and a few ladies 
promising to join them in a few days. 

Madame de Noirm on tiers seemed agitated 
on getting into the carriage ; an unusual flush 
reddened her cheeks. Lucien asked her the rea- 
son of her emotion. 

‘‘ It is nothing,” said she, ‘‘I come to do my- 
self justice.” And then remained silent. 

Madame de Noirmou tiers sometimes answer- 
ed in a manner which precluded further question. 

There was, however, more in her emotion than 
the justice of which she spoke. 

She had had, a few days before, an exciting 
conversation with Rafael Rasconti, who, avail- 
ing himself of a few attentions and perhaps also 
of some slight enticements that the marchioness 
had bestowed upon him as well as to other 
people without perceiving anything particular 
in them herself, had been willing to make the 
most of what he called his rights. 

Madame de Noirmou tiers had much laughed 
at his presumption ; but the name of Lucien 
having been mentioned in the conversation with 
some insolence, the marchioness, without taking 
pains to justify herself, had been compelled to 
dismiss the lieutenant of the Queen’ s dragoons. 

One or two letters had followed this explana- 


119 


tion, and Madame deNoirmoutiers, tired at last 
of a correspondence which was assuming in some 
respects a bullying tone, had solicited from the 
minister of war an order for the removal of Ka- 
fael. She was too securely placed in court af- 
fairs not to obtain what she wanted, and Rafael, 
one morning, received a ministerial note order- 
ing him to start for Palerma where he should 
thereafter have to keep garrison. 

Rafael could not have the order revoked, but 
in tracing back the source of his misfortune, he 
guessed from where the blow that struck him 
came. The very same day of the marchioness’ 
departure he had met her and plainly expressed 
his indignation at her conduct. 

The marchioness eyed him proudly from head 
to foot. 

“I did not at first recognize you, sir,” said 
she; ‘‘it seemed to me that I had solicited from 
M. Rafael Rasconti the honor of not seeing him 
any more.” 

Rafael turned pale as a corpse. 

“ And I tell you,” cried he with a voice chok- 
ing with anger, ‘ ‘that you shall see me again and 
sooner and nearer than you may believe.” 

It was after this short scene that the mar- 
chioness got into her carriage. 


120 


The company had assembled but a few days 
at the castle of Abruzzo, when Horace Hidier 
proposed to pay a visit to a cascade said to be 
a very fine one and which was situated at a dis- 
tance of four or five leagues in a wild district of 
which goatherds and their goats were the only 
inhabitants. 

They started early, the painter with some 
brushes, Lucien with a rifie to shoot partridges, 
the ladies with their parasols, the big baron with 
his cross. The cascade was so very picturesque, 
that nobody regretted the hardships of the ex- 
cursion when, as frequently happens in moun- 
tainous countries, a storm obliged the whole 
party to seek shelter in a wretched cottage, which 
was used as a sheep-fold and an inn, and which 
had its four walls miserably built in the hollow 
of a dale. 

An old matron and her son kept the host- 
elry, which received all its profits from artists 
drawn there by the savage beauty of the coun- 
try, and from shepherds who came there to tend 
their fiocks. 

There is nothing to put people, who have no 
care, in good temper like an accident. Madame 
de Noirmou tiers accepted the storm as an ad- 
venture. They laid out the food upon a tripod, 


121 


plundered the stable and the inner-yard to get 
some milk and eggs, lit an Homeric fire, and 
each one endeavored to make the situation ap- 
pear as trifiing as possible. 

General cheerfulness prevailed in the host- 
elry when suddenly the door was rudely open- 
ed, and a tall scoundrel of athletic form and 
dressed in the traditional costume of the Fra 
Diamlo Calabrian, appeared on the threshold. 
The matron, who was cooking an omelette, did 
not release the hold of the frying-pan ; neither 
did her son, who was plucking some black-birds, 
disturb himself ; it was evident they were ac- 
customed to these kind of visits. At the same 
instant, the two or three roughly executed win- 
dows in the walls were burst in upon their rusty 
hinges, and faces surmounted by conical hats 
were thrust into the hall. 

At the sight of these new-comers, who might 
be very honest people, although their costumes 
were anything but comforting, Lucien would 
have sprung to his rifie ; but the man who was 
watching the door prevented him, and M. de 
Yarny, who had only his naked hands for weap- 
ons, was obliged to retreat before a large knife 
whose point was glittering within three inches 
of his breast. 


122 


“Hold! my master,” said tlie brigand who 
seemed to be the chief, and who wore very line 
silk ribbons in his black hat, “yon have a very 
hasty hand for a Neapolitan.” 

“I am a Frenchman,” answered Lncien. 

* ‘ I should have guessed it ; my compatriots 
are more peaceful. By Saint- James my defend- 
er, it is not your fault that my head was not in 
close quarters with the bullet of this musket.” 

Lucien no longer listened to the bandit’s re- 
marks but searched his pockets, for a pair of pis- 
tols he had brought to exercise his skill against 
the magpies. He took one out and, without tak- 
ing time to aim, fired. The bullet passed through 
the chiefs hat. 

“Heavens ! then you are determined to shoot 
me ! ” cried the chief ; and, prompt as a flash, 
he enacted from M. de Varny’s hand the other 
pistol which he was in the act of raising. 

“Let us leave these playthings,” continued 
he, “ we may injure ourselves.” 

Lucien grew pale with rage and searched with 
his eyes for a weapon ; a suppliant look of Ma- 
dame de Noirm on tiers stopped him, just as he 
was about to throw himself on the throat of the 
bandit. 

The hostelry presented at this moment a sin- 


123 


gular spectacle. The matron occupying herself 
with their eggs ; the son despoiling the thrushes 
after the black-birds; he was quite sure that some 
one would eat them ; the kinswoman of the mar- 
chioness, good old lady who following the tra- 
ditions of the Empire, had prudently fainted ; 
the baron was rolling his thumbs around each 
other and opening his large eyes ; his wife was 
inhaling some salts and meditating an hysterical 
attack in a corner ; Horace Bidier, who courted 
her at the castle, forgetting her spasms, cut a 
pencil and was preparing to sketch the scene 
which he had under his eyes : the artist prevail- 
ing over the lover ; Lucien was boiling with rage ; 
Madame de Noirmoutiers clinging to his hand, 
pale, horrified ; the bandit looking at both, twist- 
ing his head and smiling ; while his comrades 
waited, with their hands upon their long rifies. 

‘‘ My faith ! ” at last said the chief advanc- 
ing towards Lucien, ‘‘you are a gallant young 
man, and I like courage. However, you have 
been more fortunate than you think in having 
missed your mark, signor Frenchman ; because 
if you had killed me, your doom had been sealed, 
and there would not have been a single one of 
your party left alive to tell at Naples how the 
thing happened.” 


124 


‘^Madame de Noirmoutiers shuddered ; the 
baroness entirely fainted.’’ 

‘‘But you have only injured my hat,” con- 
tinued the chief, “and I will think no more of 
it, so shake hands : you can do it without any 
fear ; this hand never strikes backward, it only 
relieves here and there some big post-chaises off 
Englishmen, and that is not a great sin.” 

Lucien had the wonderful faculty of accom- 
modating himself to circumstances, when he un- 
derstood that it was not in his power to modify 
them ; he therefore took the hand of the bandit 
and shook it with evident friendliness. 

“Very well,” said the other, “this is what 
may be called acting like a gentleman,” 

‘ ‘ Here it is done ! ’ ’ cried Horace Hidier with 
the joy of a child, and taking his paper, he ran 
towards the bandit. 

“Ho you recognize yourself, my brave?” 
said he to him displaying under his eyes a sketch 
vigorously drawn. It was the osteria with its 
groups variously massed ; the artistic fidelity 
was striking. 

^ ‘ The picture is not bad, ’ ’ said the chief, with 
the gravity of a connaiseur emerite, 

‘ ‘ This then is what you were occupying your- 
self with, yonder, on that roost ?” added he de- 


125 


signaling with his finger an old trunk on which 
Horace had been seated. 

“And I imagine that I have not lost my 
time ! What a painting for the coming expo- 
sition at the Louvre, with this inscription un- 
derneath : An encounter in the Abruzzo ! ” 

“Certainly you must be a Frenchman too ? ’’ 
said the bandit. 

“ France is my country, it will ever be ! ” an- 
swered the artist in an elated tone. 

“We will dine more gayly ; because I imag- 
ine that you will grant us the honor of partak- 
ing of our slender meal,’’ replied the chief. 

They could not reasonably refuse a proposi- 
tion made in this manner ; the cover was soon 
spread, and all the inmates of the hostelry sat 
around the table. The baroness had recovered 
her senses just as a bandit was about to throw 
a jar of water upon her head. The old lady 
imitated her example. 

Madame de Noirmoutiers also regained all 
her cheerfulness ; but, to tell the truth, it was 
only a feverish cheerfulness. Although she did 
not realize exactly what was the particular dan- 
ger menacing her, she understood instinctively 
that an unknown peril threatened her. Waiting 
till it would reveal itself, she talked and laughed. 


126 


“You have made,’^ said she to the chief, “ a 
poor expedition.’’ And with the end of her rosy 
fingers she drew from her pocket a very small 
purse which she dangled before the bandit. 
“You will not count this adventure amongst 
your fortunate ones.” 

“This good fortune does not concern me,” 
said the chief, “and I nearly regret having un- 
dertaken it. However, an honest bandit must 
keep by his word. ’ ’ 

“ What do you mean by that ? ” asked Lu- 
cien. 

“You will learn it very soon ! ” 

“ I hope that it won’ t bring any harm to this 
young lady ’ ’ 

“ It is not me at least who will do her any 
injury ; but, between ourselves, I believe that 
they wish her too much good.” ‘ 

“Who will dare this?” cried Lucien his 
eyes sparkling with indignation. 

“Well now ! Will you make yourself angry 
because they had eyes to see what you looked 
upon so complaisantly yourself ? Instead of con- 
tending about things which have not yet hap- 
pened, I believe we will do better to sing ; there 
is yonder a mandoline, and my pretty neighbor 
will I hope consent to draw from it some ro- 
mance for us.” 


127 


‘ ‘ Willingly, ’ ’ said Madame de N oirmoutiers, 
who was anxious above all things to avoid a 
quarrel between Lucien and the bandit. 

She took the instrument from the hands of 
the chief and began to sing the cavatina in 11 
Puritani. 

Her voice, beautiful and expressive all at 
once, raised in the osteria with a power that emo- 
tion seemed to augment. The bandits were inci- 
ting her with their looks, and all the chivalry of 
their ardent nature, endowed with musical sen- 
timent, were aroused by this song which filled 
the hall with passionate melody. 

When Madame de Noirmoutiers stopped, 
some frantic huzzalis broke out. The chief broke 
his glass against the wall. 

That Saint- James may strangle the cursed 
Neapolitan who has paid me to perform what I 
have done ! ” cried he with violence. But the 
noise of his voice was lost in the uproar of ap- 
plause. 

^‘Ancora ! Aacora p- cried the bandits with 
enthusiasm. 

“ Be it so ! ” again answered the marchioness 
exalted with her own triumph. 

‘‘What courage!” said Lucien, “and how 
I admire you, madam ! ” 


128 


“ Oh I replied she, “this courage is but the 
effects of terror, it is the delirium of fear. And 
now, this furia intoxicates me ; they do not ap- 
applaud like this at San Carlo’s I ” 

As she was concluding the aria of the Lucia 
in the midst of a tempest of applause, a bandit 
stepped in. 

“What I signor Frenchman, you here ? ” said 
he coming close to Lucien. 

It was Gaspard the dragoon. 

Lucien related to him in a few words what 
had transpired. Gaspard listened to him atten- 
tively. 

“By the horns of the devil I ” said he, “this 
will end better than it has begun. ’ ’ And he went 
straight to the chief. 

The two bandits conferred together. Lucien 
and Madame de Noirmou tiers understanding 
that their fate depended on this moment’s deci- 
sion. The chief and Gaspard talked animated- 
ly, looking occasionally at both of them ; the 
eyes of the marchioness and of Lucien also met, 
and those of the marchioness were so sweet, that 
M. de Varny was even anxious that the peril 
should be prolonged, fearing to see his happi- 
ness vanish with the danger. 

At last, the chief went toward them. 


129 


“You have,’’ said he to Lucien, “given life 
to this man who is one of mine ; after what I 
have seen of your boldness, your generosity does 
! not astonish me, but it deserves a reward, and 
j you will get it as good as you can wish. For 
; you, madam, ’ ’ added he turning toward the mar- 
chioness, “you deserve something better than 
the fate which was reserved for you. What Gas- 
pard has revealed to me, and what I have per- 
5 oeived myself, leads me to understand why the 
1 same Neapolitan is anxious at the same time to 
I have your life, signor Frenchman, and yourlib- 
I erty, charming dona. But you will see how 
! Giacomo the bandit metes out justice.” 

I On a sign from the chief, Gaspard disap- 
I peared out of the osteria. Horace Didier again 
^ seized his pencils. 

An instant later, Gaspard re-entered, con- 
i ducting Rafael Rasconti. 

‘ ‘ The infamous scoundrel ! ’ ’ shouted Lucien, 
and he was going to rush upon the Neapolitan, 
when Giacomo stopped him. 

“This does not concern you yet,” said he ; 
“ here I command and I must be obeyed. Later 
and further on you may do as you please.” 

Then, turning towards Rafael, he said : 

“You have given me five hundred ducats to 


130 


capture this lady and to deliver her to you ; I 
have taken the ducats and I have captured the 
lady. But as we always have the right to break 
off a bargain by rot timing back what we have 
received, I return you your gold and I gave this 
lady her liberty.” 

A big purse fell at the feet of the lieutenant. 

‘‘Begone !” continued the bandit, “if you 
now attempt anything against them, be careful 
not to do so on my domains, for if you do it, you 
will not get away with a whole skin.” 

Rafael kicked the bag from him with dis- 
dain. 

‘ ‘ I never take back what I give; let your men 
divide this gold between them !” 

“ My men keep only what they have earned; 
don’t you know that well V’ 

‘ ‘ By the manner in which you keep your pro- 
mise, I can ignore it. As for this bag, I leave it 
to the hostess.” 

“Now, out of here!” exclaimed Griacomo 
whose energetic face was beginning to show 
signs of anger. 

“Be it so ! but here or elsewhere, in Naples 
or on your domains, I shall meet thy dependants, 
signor bandit.” 

“ Take care also to meet my rifle, lieutenant 
of woe I” 


131 


Rafael retired slowly, after having cast an 
ominous look all around the hut. 

“You are at liberty,” said Giacomo to Ma- 
dame de Noirmoutiers and Lucien. 

Both took his hands ; the marchioness tried 
to make him accept for his troop, the equivalent 
of what his generous action had made him lose. 

Giacomo stopped her in the middle of the 
offers she was stammering out. 

“No,” said he, “let us have the merit of 
generosity. Bandits as we are, we have our pride; 
but if ever any of my band are carried to Naples, 
remember the osteria.'^'^ 

It may be conceived that after such an ad- 
venture, a prolonged stay at the castle of Abruz- 
zo was not very agreeable to Madame de Noir- 
moutiers. She often beheld in her dreams the 
livid head of Rafael Rasconti, and her terror 
was so great that she could no more venture her 
foot outside the castle ; every shepherd she saw 
upon the hills was transformed by her imagina- 
tion into a bandit who was watching for her. 
She hastened her preparations of departure, con- 
clude as speedily as possible the business of rent 
and of hire, and started back to Naples five or 
six days after the encounter at the osteria. 


132 


As slie came down towards the flat country, 
leaving behind her the notched summits of the 
mountains, she recovered her careless gaiety, 
and already, after the first night’s lodging, she 
began to forget her fears and to laugh at the 
terror which made her see some of Rafael’s emis- 
saries in every passer-by. 

As the weather was fine and the air mild, they 
traveled short days, visiting curious sites, break- 
fasting in the ferms, ascending heights ; Madame 
de Noirmou tiers’ singing, Horace Didier sketch- 
ing, and the small caravan was returning to Na- 
ples one of the happiest in the world. 

One morning, as they were following the road 
at the flank of a hill, the marchioness and Lu- 
cien got down from their horses and went before 
the others with the intention of visiting a cha- 
pel, the small steeples of which were towering 
above the hill, and from which the view should 
be very fine. 

Horace was sketching an old shepherd who 
was sitting for one franc. 

The baron and the baroness were sleeping in 
the caleche. 

The chapel stood on the angle of a steep 
rock ; on the other side, the declivity decreased 
abruptly and the road wound through its sinuo- 


133 


sities into the woods. The solitude was deep. 

Lucien and the marchioness were just about 
to pass over the steps on the chapel’s side, when 
M. de Varny perceived, above the wall of dry 
stones of an enclosure, a hat raise up and the 
barrel of a rifle lengthening ; but before he could 
recognize the enemy who was menacing them, 
an explosion resounded, and the hat with the 
rifle disappeared behind the wall. Lucien turn- 
ed his head to the side from which the noise of 
the detonation came ; a light cloud of whitish 
smoke floated above a hedge-row, behind the 
road, and from the centre of this row he saw Gas- 
pard step out. 

“This time,” cried the dragoon, “it is really 
finished ; he wiU not torment you any more.” 

“ Who is it ? ” asked Lucien. 

‘ ‘Come and see then, since you cannot guess. ’ ’ 

Gaspard jumped on the road and lead Lucien 
behind the wall of the enclosure. 

They found Rafael Rasconti lying on his back, 
in the costume of a shepherd and a weapon 
cocked by his side. The bullet of Gaspard had 
struck him in the forehead and instantly killed 
him. 

“Oh ! ” said the dragoon, “I have not lost 
track of him since you left the castle. When 


134 


he attempted to make his stab, I made mine. 
Now we are clear. Liberty for liberty, life for 
life ! ’ ’ 

Gaspard shook hands with Lncien, threw his 
rifle which he had loaded again upon his should- 
er and disappeared in the distance. 

That very night Madame deNoirmoutiers re- 
entered her Toledo street mansion. 


Chapter YIII. 

Madame de Noirmoutiers discovers how dear Lucien is to her. — 
‘‘ To wait and act.” — Lucien’s letter to the marchioness. — Visit 
to villa Orso. — Peppe’s confession. — Lucien prepares to go. 
— Madame de Noirmoutiers at Lucien’ s house. — Why M. de 
Varny did not go. — Lucien’ s love for the marchioness. — His pre- 
sentiments. — “Oh I wish not for such a love, it kills !” — M. de 
Noirmoutiers’ illness. 

|BtoR the first time in her life, the marchioness 
was in the presence of a cicisheo^ so much 
the more dangerous in that she felt that his 
cause had an advocate in her own heart. But if 
in the silence of her boudoir or reverie of soli- 
tude she was willing to allow how dear the sec- 
retary of the embassy was to her, she was irri- 
tated to see their names mixed in all the draw- 
ing-room gossip of the day, the report of their 


135 


adventure in the hostelry of the Abruzzo being 
spread throughout the town. Possessing the 
character she did, there was surely as much 
pride as chastity in this indignation, and all her 
conduct showed it plainly. She promised to 
herself, at first, to have a greater reserve in her 
connections with M. de Yarny, and afterwards, 
to calmly keep him away, without showing any 
pity for his love ; but it is nothing to make 
a good resolution, — the most important is to 
keep it. 

As for Lucien, he came back to Naples 

“ Le cceur tout dehor dant demoiiom divines , * 
as the poet has written. This life a deux^—^M^l 
life, — agitated with so many perils, had intoxi- 
cated him. He found Charles Sheldon on better 
terms with LaToresilla, who gave him to see, in 
the manner in which she received him, all the 
anger which his forgetfulness had excited. But 
it was a matter about which Lucien cared little, 
and he paid as little heed to her threats as he 
did attention to the attempt she made to re-con- 
quer a heart which had never belonged to her. 

“What method have you then taken to sub- 
due this rebel who, if I remember rightly, had 
repulsed your previous assaults 1 ’ asked Lucien 
of Charles Sheldon. 


* ViCTOB Hugo \—Les Feuilles tfAu/omn^, xxm. 


136 


I have waited.” 

‘‘Is that all?” 

“How ! all ; but, my dear fellow, that is the 
most difficult thing in the world to do. Impa- 
tience ruins the best half of men ; awkwardness 
misleads the rest. Strong men are patient, and 
you will learn one day that nothing can resist 
those who know how to wait.” 

“I always believed in those who knew how 
to act.” 

‘ ‘ Sometimes ; but there is often much impru- 
dence in action. I, in everything, belong to 
this new and intelligent class who believe that 
the occasion lost is to be found again. Life is 
only made up of defeat and revenge. See for 
instance LaToresilla.” 

“ But you never reach triumph only by de- 
feat ! ” 

“ hlo matter what way we take, provided we 
reach our journey’s end ! Here, my dear M. de 
Yarny, you have twenty years of heart affec- 
tion ; you know that if I am smitten with Ma- 
dame de Noirmoutiers, you also know how little 
am jealous and how little I try to please her. 
Well, then ! wait again for six weeks or six 
months, and the day your love shall be crown- 
ed, I shall nearly gain my aim.” 


137 


Oh ! ” remarked M. de Yamy with poorly 
disguised indignation. 

You believe me to be a veritable fop or you 
think that I blaspheme. I am neither impious, 
nor vain. I have honestly some experience.” 

Lucien who never left Mr. Sheldon without 
having a sore heart, hurried to Madame de N’oir- 
moutiers’ house that she might again put life 
and faith into him. But since their return from 
the Abruzzo, the hand of the marchioness no 
longer lingered in that of M. de Yarny ; her looks 
had no more that soft and limpid brightness 
that distils hope ; her words were no longer em- 
bellished with a smile eloquent as a promise. 
Prudery had passed over the spring-blossom of 
love as the blast of winter. 

Lucien, loved too sincerely to understand 
anything in this change, and in which a profligate 
would have read an avowal. He deeply des- 
paired and yet longed for an explanation, but 
did not attempt to provoke it. 

One day, however, when Madame de Hoir- 
moutiers had received him more coldly than 
usual, he returned home in a state of grief that 
can only be understood by those who, having 
loved, find themselves suddenly isolated in their 
love. He thought that the time had come to 


138 


make an extreme resolution, and having set his 
business affairs in good order, he wrote to the 
marchioness the following letter : 

Naples, September 15th^ 181^7. 

‘‘ Please to pardon me^ madam^ for presum- 
ing to occupy a few moments of your time by 
relating to yo% that which perhaps has impor- 
tance only in my own eyes. When you learn 
that it is the last time I shall, undoubtedly, 
annoy you with my troubles, you will, I feel 
confident, accord me the favor of reading this 
letter as you would grant to a peasant the honor 
of your partnership at a country dance. 

“ You have accustomed me to an intimacy 
that was dear to me, to a confidence that was pre- 
cious to me. My love, timidly expressed, had ob- 
tained more than it had ever attempted to hope 
for, and Iblessed you in my soul for all the joy 
that you gave me. You have withdrawn from 
me this friendship and confidence, madam ; I 
must certainly have committed a fault for which 
you punish me, and 1 have no right to complain; 
but still must I ash you, to absolve me in your 
conscience, for lam ignorant of having commit- 
ted a fault, and if I have done so, it is without 
my knowledge. I would wish, if I have acted 


139 


wrongly^ that it were in my power to remedy it^ 
and I would do it at the cost of my life. You have 
not condescended to inform me of this fault fut 
I must submit and accept my condemnation.^ 
since such is your loill. My heart is too full of 
your image to resolve to live near you., knowing 
that you are irritated ; your coldness and your 
disdain bring down upon me too much suffer- 
ing. I have resolved on the wisest decision .^ — 
the only practical one. This evening., my resig- 
nation shall be laid in the hands of my ambas- 
sador., and this night I shall leave Naples never 
to return. 

“ To say to you that in going I will feel my 
heart broken^ is only what you may believe 
madam ; but to add that this heart will faith- 
fully bear your remembrance till the grave., will 
perhaps cause a smile to hover over your lips. 
However., I know that it is not a falsehood^ as 
the future will fully prove to you. I go to Paris 
not to find rest and forgetfulness: I cherish my 
love too much to be willing to be cured of it ; I 
go there because it is the city of the world where 
one can more easily lose himself in solitude. 
It is like an ocean the immensity of which con- 
ceals all who plunge in it. 

It was sweet for me to think that the rela- 


140 


tions that united us would never cease ; for a 
long time this belief had comforted me, and I 
found in it a happiness that I cannot find Ian- 
guage to express. This happiness has not had 
long duration; what earthly joy ever had? I 
would have bad grace to accuse you as the cause 
of it., and I throw bach this bitterness upon the 
mysterious power that rules our hearts^ and 
who would not have these affections prolonged., 

. in order that we may not regret this poor world 
too much when the time comes for us to lay it 
aside. 

Farewell., madam., I will not any longer 
occupy you with one to whom you have given 
the name of friend., and who does not believe that 
he had paid too dearly for this title by leaving 
you in return all his life and all his love.'^'* 

Lucien signed this letter and sent it to its ad- 
dress. When he heard the messenger go out 
with it, it seemed to him that his heart was gOr 
ing too : he fell into an arm-chair and began to 
weep like a child. 

However, Madame de Noirmoutiers had, this 
very day, left Naples for the villa Orso which 
she had not seen for a long time. The report of 
the death of lieutenant Rafael had reached 


141 


there, and it wa s said that this inexplicable death 
should be the cause of a proceeding which would 
bring to light many concealed events. Peppe, 
who had, as we know, frequent dealings with the 
lieutenant, had his mind much agitated, when 
the marchioness unexpectedly arrived at the 
villa. This visit seemed to him a sure sign of the 
discovery of his complicity the consequences of 
which he dreaded ; full of fear, and knowing the 
goodness of his mistress, he determined to con- 
fess his faults, hoping that his frankness would 
j be an argument in his favor, 
i Madame de N'oirmou tiers was utterly aston- 

j ished when she heard the account of the attempts 
I that had been made against her, and which had 
I miscarried only by the intervention of M. de 
[ Yarny. Lucien had not even spoken to her on 
the subject, and his devotion, combined with 
such delicate discretion, touched her. Her heart 
was filled with secret reproaches, when on her 
return to Naples Lucien’ s letter was given to 
' her ; she read it with great haste and then fell 
upon a sofa,her mind perplexed and overwhelm- 
ed with grief. 

From what she knew of Lucien’ s character 
she did not doubt for a moment that he would 
carry his project into execution. She was af- 


142 


fected by tbe love of this young man who did 
not even reproach her hardness of heart, but 
who accused himself only of an alteration which 
destroyed a future whose promise was so bril- 
liant. For the first time she felt her heart melt 
at the thought of this passion, deep and restrain- 
ed, eager and devoted, chaste and loyal. She 
thought to herself that this love was worthy of 
being reciprocated and that it would be a pity 
to let Lucien go without a word of consolation, 
without a smile to restore him to life and hope. 
Thus it always happens with vivacious and un- 
stable natures, Madame de Noirmoutiers was 
animating and exalting herself by following 
the rapid flight of her thoughts ; and, acting 
on her first impulses, she made in a few moments 
more progress in this direction than she would 
have done had she tried to vanquish herself. 

However she did not know what resolution 
to take ; a thousand projects occurred to her ir- 
resolute mind, and alternately she was adopt- 
ing and rejecting them. She would write, but 
the words her agitated hands traced on the pa- 
per did not clearly express her thoughts, they 
told too much or did not say enough ; at last 
she finished a letter, but, when she had signed 
it, she discovered that this letter commenced 


I 


143 


with reserve ended with passion ; there was a 
reproach in the first line : in the last, there was an 
avowal. She tore it np excitedly and arose. She 
was astonished at seeing her own picture refiect- 
ed in the mirror ; she was flushed as if with 
fever and her eyes sparkled with a supernatural 
fire. No matter what she did, her thoughts un- 
intentionally went back to Lucien’ s farewell let- 
ter, and when she had read it again, tears came to 
her eyes, rolled down her face, and she was 
amazed to think that she should sob over this 
piece of paper till she could no longer distin- 
guish the writing through her tears. 

In the meantime, Mr. Charles Sheldon enter- 
ed. The marchioness had only time enough to 
wipe her cheeks and compose a smiling coun- 
I tenance, with the readiness which is a necessity 
I in the life of a devotee of the l)eau monde. 

! With that light carelessness which was usual 
to him, Mr. Sheldon spoke to Madame deNoir- 
moutiers about the hasty departure of Lucien of 
which he had just been informed. 

‘‘Do you believe it asked Theresa of him 
disguising her trouble. 

“lam positive of it, madam,” answered the 
tourist. “I found him in the midst of an unset- 
tled apartment ; and the orders are given for the 
post-chaise to be ready in two hours. 


144 


Madame de Noirmoii tiers started up ; her 
eyes on the dial ; in two hours midnight would 
strike. 

‘‘I shall see him again in Paris,” continued 
Charles, “but we will miss him at Naples this 
winter. He was an intelligent young man, ah 
though too sentimental sometimes.” 

This coldness of friendship greatly annoyed 
Madame de Noirmou tiers, whose passionate sen- 
timents could not understand language so de- 
void of interest. 

She quickly answered Mr. Sheldon, who, 
examining her more attentively, discovered on 
her face the traces still fresh of an emotion vain- 
ly suppressed. A moment later he rose up, and 
Madame de Noirmoutiers did not try to detain 
him. 

It was then eleven o’clock. The insensibility 
of Charles had only irritated the exaltation of 
Theresa, as the wind fans an ardent flame ; she 
half-opened the window; the night was dark ; she 
heard the noise of Charles’ steps becoming less 
and less distinct in the distance ; then, yielding 
to the voice of her heart, carried away by an ir- 
resistible impulse, she flew down a flight of stairs 
leading from her private apartment into the 
street, and ran to Lucien’s residence. She did 


I 


145 


not know what she was going to tell him, but 
she was anxiously eager to see hiTn at any cost. 
A servant yawningly opened the door ; it was 
then near midnight. Passing like a flash in 
front of him, before he had time to question 
her, she had, without hesitating, penetrated into 
Lucien’s room. 

M. de Yarny who had not undressed was 
sleeping ; a lamp burning upon a table strewn 
with papers ; he was pale ; fatigue and care were 
plainly visible in his features ; the whole room 
was in complete disorder, presenting nothing but 
trunks and portfolios ; the bureau drawers and 
wardrobes were open and empty ; lassitude had 
closed the' eyes of the young man, whose sleep 
however was troubled. His lips were moving as 
if he tried to speak. Madame de Noirmoutiers, 
trembling with excitement, believed that she 
heard her name uttered by these lips that a sweet 
memory disclosed. She stepped forward, and 
her foot struck an implement. 

“Theresa!” cried the young man with a 
voice that came from the heart. Madame de 
Noirmoutiers felt tears wet her eye-lids, and fell 
into his arms. 

M. de Yarny did not send in his resignation 
and forgot that he had contemplated a return to 
Paris. 


146 


As he crossed the town the following day, il 
appeared to him that Naples had some beauty 
that he had never before noticed, the sky somd 
infinite glory, the sea some divine murmurings, 
the air some magical perfumes ; the feeling of hisi 
heart brightened and beautified everything and 
he saw creation through the prism of love. Glad- 
ly would he have wished that Naples had only; 
one head to be able to kiss it wholly in one em- 1 
brace. | 

So far he had loved Madame de Noirmou- 
tiers, now he adored her. This the marchioness ■ 
soon understood, and she recalled the day when 
Lucien had spoke to her of this love, which was i 
infiamed at the remembrance. Her joy was ex- 
treme in feeling that he had not lied, and at first j 
finding herself fascinated, transported by this i 
passion, which resuming in itself all the intel- 
lectual strength of M. de Yarny, she abandoned 
herself to him with all the ardor of youth and 
imagination. 

This was for a space of fifteen days ; fifteen 
days of fever, of transport, of delirium. 

But Madame de Noirmoutiers was too much 
loved ; at first she was intoxicated, but immedi- 
ately afterwards she felt her heart vacillate. This 


discovery, we must confess, grieved her; she ask- 
ed herself with fright what the future reserved 
for her would be, if she felt so soon this disen- 
chantment and coldness. She sincerely tried 
to cling again to Lucien, and imagination play- 
ed so great a part in her organization, that she 
sometimes contrived to recover the enthusiasm 
of former days. 

There is, in love seriously true, a kind of 
magnetic divination ; Lucien felt this transfor- 
mation before it had manifested itself, as the 
sailor anticipates the tempest by the ripples that 
ruffle the glittering surface of the waters. From 
that day, his happiness was poisoned ; fear stole 
into his heart as the worm into the fruit ; his joy 
became extinct, and a voice cried to him that 
henceforth he must dwell alone with his passion 
bound to his side as the robe of Dejanira. 

He had reached that supreme height of love 
which judges and yet loves on. Nothing of 
what Madame de Noirmoutiers was, her desires, 
thoughts, hopes, weariness, was unknown to 
him ; he read her heart as an open book, and yet 
nothing could extinguish or cool the passion 
which was surging in his blood. The illusion 
no longer amused him, the hope no longer lull- 
ed his sleep ; he saw, he knew, he judged as a 
philosopher and he adored as a scholar. 


148 


Let no one cry out that this is paradoxical, 
exaggerated and impossible ; we but relate whal i 
many have seen, what some have felt: the 
phenomenon exists, let those explain it who can. 

Ere long a premature paleness spread over the 
face of Lucien, and, haunted by a fatal thought, 
he saw his days float by like a dark and silent ^ 
stream whose leadened surface was sometimes ' 
lightened with a sinister glimmer. 

One night, at the Austrian ambassador’ s re- 
sidence, Charles Sheldon was much struck with 
the altered appearance of Lucien, and by close- 
ly observing Madame de Noirmoutiers and M. i 
de Yarny he soon understood the silent drama 
which was being enacted between them ; he shrug- i 
ged his shoulders and said to himself with a 
smile. 

‘‘Poor young man ! that is the light-house 
which reveals the harbor to me ! ” 

Then with the temerity of sceptical philoso- 
phy, he joined Lucien and said to him abrutply : 

“You, my dear fellow, resemble Phyehus 
OF Epieus ! another such victory, and you are 
lost!” 

There are occasional hours when the most 
discreet of men, under the influence of a sadness 
in which a life-time seems compressed, overflow 


149 


as a vessel to full, and leave their secret open 
to penetration. Lucien, taken unawares, and 
completely broken down by this rude attack, en- 
ergetically clasped the hand of Charles Sheldon. 

‘‘I do not need another victory,” said he, 
‘ ‘ there are some battles in which we cannot en- 
gage twice.” 

‘ ‘ However she loves you ! ’ ’ 

‘‘ She loves me ! look at her eyes ! on whom 
do they gaze ? The multitude that admires her, 
or this mirror which reflects her image ! See that 
smile ! what causes it ? The joy of her triumph, 
the intoxication to please ! Where do you read 
the thought of love in that face gleaming with the 
pride of beauty? Where goes her desire? To 
the unknown passer-by, and who gives her the 
promise of another triumph ! She loves me ! But 
there is not a single flower in her hair, not a 
ribbon of her dress, not a pearl of her necklace, 
in fact any one thing that adorns her, that she 
does not prefer to me ? Of little importance is my 
^ove to her ; I belong to her, she knows that. Do 
^ou understand it : I belong to lier^ so that I am 
I what she can break, annihilate at her fancy. Y et 
what am I ? The past ! that is an old story of 
which her ear is tired. But Orlando who is there, 
Kax, you, Charles, you are the future with all 


f 


150 


its mysteries ! Oh ! she loves me ! Tell her then 
to sacrifice this ball, an evening party at San 
Carlo, least of all, the bonqnet from which she 
strips the leaves, this scarf that caresses her 
shoulder, that the tempest of my heart may be; 
appeased, and I stake my life against one haloed 
that she will shake her fine head with disdain^ 
and will distractedly devote herself to the dance. 
She loves me ! Oh, do not wish for such a loveJ 
it kills O’ 

“It is possible, my dear fellow, coolly an-j 
swered Charles, but avow also that it is a little 
of your own fault.” 

“What ! has she not then all my thought, all 
my soul, my whole existence 'C’ 

“ It is too much ! too much ! If you began by 
giving all to these charming daughters of Eve,;! 
what then do you expect they will have to wish | 
after r’ I 

‘ ‘ Are abnegation and devotedness then noth- 
ing 1 And does she not know, that from me she 
can have all, demand all, because there is in mji 
heart an inexhaustible source of kindness ancJ 
of mercy?” 

“If she did not know it so well, it is likely 
that she would value it more. See, my dear fel- 
low, you have acted as a prodigal, and prodi^ 


151 


^als min themselves in love as well as in for- 
fcnne.” 

' ‘‘That is sufficient to make one a fool,” said 
Lucien. 

“Pshaw!” observed Mr. Sheldon, “it is a 
lesson !” He turned upon his heel, and two minu- 
tes afterwards he was close by the marchioness. 

But if Lucien was often depressed by the ir- 
ritation of his sufferings, he had also sometimes 
the intoxicating exaltation of love. Then he 
would fling thought to the winds. He would 
forget all and abandon himself to the voluptu- 
ousness of the day without regretting the eve, 
nor with fear for the morrow. Madame de N oir- 
moutiers, obedient to her nature, made him pass 
abruptly from the freezing chills of disdain to 
I the tropical ardor of passion. 

1 “As shifting as the waves” said he to her 
sometimes, parodying the words of Siiakesperf. 

In the meanwhile, Madame de Noirmoutiers 
received a letter which informed her that her 
husband, on returning from the mission which 
had taken him to Vienna, had fallen sick at 
Rome. Unable to confnue his journey, he re- 
quested the marchioness to attend him. 


Chaptek IX. 

The marchioness’ absence. — Arrival at Naples of M. de Noirmou- 
tiers, M. and Madame d’Astouans. — The beginning of a mys- 
terious drama. — Madame de Noirmoutiers and Madame d’As- 
touans. — Sequel to the mysterious drama. — The pistols. — The 
end of the dim drama. — Death of the marquis de Noirmoutiers. 
— Joy and grief. — Lucien’s absence from Naples. — Charles’ per- 
fidy. — Lucien’s return. — The villa Orso again. 

f ADAME de Noirmoutiers did not lose a min- 
ute in making preparation for lier depar- 
ture. If the tenderness, in some respects filial, 
which she had ever expressed towards her hus- 
band entered in any way into her precipitation, 
there was certainly also a very lively and secret 
wish to escape from this love which was still agi- 
tating her, but did not charm any more. Lu- 
cien, informed of her intended departure by a 
note, hastened, and saw her leave the same night. ; 

During the few days that she remained far 
away from Lucien, he lived in Naples as in a 
desert. His heart was in Rome. 

The arrival of M. and Madame d’Astouans 
brought only fresh distraction to his mind, by ] 
obliging him to do the honors of the town to both ' 
travelers. 

However M. de Noirmoutiers, who had re- 
tained all the faculties and activity of his mind 
in the midst of his sufferings, had obtained from 


153 


I his wife the promise that she would bring him 
i,,,:back to Naples as soon as his state of health 
woTild permit him to support the motion of the 
vehicle. As a faithful servant of royalty, he 
wished himself to render an account of the re- 
ptri suits of a mission the full particulars of which 
^ could not very well be detailed in a correspond- 


ini ence. 

One of the first persons whom he saw on 
Jhis arrival was M. de Yarny. The old man, who 
had a very clear recollection of physiognomies, 
J at the first glance recognized him as one of The 
Arms of EnglanW s inn guests. He mentioned 
; ■ the fact to Lucien, whom this remembrance dis- 
j,' turbed and whose emotion was deep when he 
^ observed the cool look of the marquis passing 
. slowly from him to Madame de Noirm on tiers, 
i, whilst a bitter smile wrinkled his discolored and 
^ withered cheeks. 

As he was no longer dazzled by the passion 
, which blinds the most acute minds, and as in 
^ his quality of diplomatist he had made for him- 
self an easy science of observation, the marquis 
knew how to sieze in passing the most fugitive 
sign that betrayed the impulses of the soul ; 
nothing slipped from his mute analysis. So, 
when M. de Yarny was about leaving the mar- 


154 


quis, the keen look of the patient was directe(J 
to him with so jjowerful an expression, that Lu- 
cien lowered his eyes, and felt a cold perspira- 1| 
tion wet the roots of his hair. 

A mysterious drama was very soon being en- 
acted between these three personages ; the pas- 
sioned but silent scenes, played in the mansion 
de Noirmou tiers, and the state of the marquis’ 
health, drew a fearful character from the old an- 
tiquary, whose life was expiring without cloud- 
ing his intelligence. The presence of Madame 
d’Astouans in Naples had galvanized into the 
unsteady soul of Madame de Noirmou tiers love 
inspired by jealousy. Pride was still the prin- 
ciple of this jealousy ; but no matter what was 
the cause, if to Lucien the eifect was the same. 
It was not here, as in the case of LaToresilla, a 
side-scene princess, who, in all her brightness, 
still remained a courtesan ; it was a young lady 
of an excellent wit and from the best society 
Greuze would have desired her sweet and smil- 
ing countenance for his pencil, and her candid 
graces had an empire which held their own with 
the most refined coquetry. Madame de Noir- 
mou tiers saw then in her a most redoubtable 
rival, the first aspiring to trouble the superb 
quietness of her heart, a rival so much more dan- 


155 


gerons lecause of tier relationship with M. de 
Yariiy, and her open and avowed friendship for 
him, rendering their connections intimate and 
constant. 

The first result of this alarm of jealousy was 
violent ; it brought up before all the assiduous 
presence of Lucien in the mansion, the presence 
from which his delicate soul suffered, but the 
consequences of which he submitted to, because 
it drew to him at the same time the intoxication 
for a love that the feeling of rivalry had fright- 
ened into a revival. 

The old man, condemned by medical science, 
was too well learned to receive him with bad grace ; 
what he felt he could not help ", he was a man 
of court and experience, who had accepted mar- 
riage as a wager, and who, having lost, resigned 
himself genteely to pay the stakes like a gentle- 
man. He only revenged himself by an exqui- 
site urbanity which sometimes gave forth smiles 
and glances, whose keen eloquence Lucien well 
understood. Madame de Hoirmou tiers saw this, 
and it frequently happened that, under the in- 
fluence of a reaction as lively as it was sudden, 
she displayed to Lucien a face steeped in tears. 
Then, kneeling close by the old diplomatist, she 
would break out in sobs and cover his hands with 


156 


supplicating kisses. M. de Noirmou tiers, with 
a cruel simplicity, pretended to misunderstand 
the cause of this exalted sensibility; and passing 
his trembling lingers on the inclined head of his 
wife would say to her with a smile : 

‘^Be calm, madam, I am not so sick as you 
think, and my health, soon recovered, will allow 
me to thank you for all the kindness you have 
shown to me. Then turning towards M. de Yar- 
ny, he would add : 

“ Take for yourself also, my dear sir, a good 
part of this hope.” 

At this spectacle and these words, Lucien 
would feel his heart ready to break, and would 
go and conceal his agitation in an obscure cor- 
ner of the drawing-room. 

One day when Madame de Noirmou tiers was 
out, he found himself alone with the marquis. 
The sickness had made dreadful progress. The 
antiquary was sitting in a large arm-chair, and 
his head reposing on its large overturned back, 
the dark velvet of which set out the emaciated 
lines and livid tints of his figure, shining and 
wrinkled as a sheet of yellow parchment. 

A faint light streamed through the long red 
curtains that hung to the window, producing a 
purple refiection on all that came within its 


157 


scope, lessening, according as it went away from 
its luminous edges, until it became extinct upon 
the wide shelves of an oakwood library case 
whose black and heavy frames rose to the ceiling, 
A bright lire was crackling on the hearth, and 
the flames, spreading, lighted with ardent tints 
upon the old arms, Grecian and Roman pano- 
plies, dark suits of armour placed on pedestals 
of marble or suspended from the walls ; upon 
the antique consoles, Grecian urns, Etruscan 
vases, cups snatched from Pompeii, brass lamps, 
the alabaster amphorm, the divinities of the 
pagan Olympia, all those relics of stone or 
metals of a world destroyed, were reflecting; 
the light which breaking at their sides, and radi- 
ated into the deepness of the room, where two* 
pale statues, master-pieces of an unknown Phi- 
dias, stood in their pure and sublime nudity, 
appearing like two marble sentinels watching 
at the threshold of this museum of the past. 

A suite of heavy hangings dro wned the noise 
from the outside ; the monotonous stroke of a 
pendulum, the sparkling of the fire alone dis- 
turbing the silence. It was also occasionally 
broken by the labored respiration of the old man. 

His glances moved from his books to his med- 
als, his two passions; then he fixed them upon 


158 


Lucien who sat by the window, between the 
curtains. According as his moments were run- 
ning out, the furtive looks of the diplomatist 
.were directed with a more constant gaze upon M. 
de Varny ; a strange brightness lit his eyeballs, 
which were as wide and motionless as the eyes 
of those nightbirds that shine in the darkness. 
The shadow of a thought was playing upon this 
forehead, despoiled, yellow and polished as the 
skull of an old ivory saint, and the wrinkled 
corners of his mouth were rising up with a bit- 
ter expression of irony. The heart of Lucien 
was beating at lightning pace. The look of the 
antiquary was weighing like so much lead upon 
his head. 

The dying man slowly raised his arm, and 
made a sign with his fingers for Lucien to ap- 
proach. 

As if he had obeyed the pressure of a spring, 
Lucien instantly left his place. 

The old man turned his face towards the chim- 
ney, and, pointing out to him a carved box of 
burnished steel which occupied a corner of the 
casing, said : 

‘‘I beg of you to please give me that box,’’ 
said he with a clear voice. 

Lucien handed him the box without answer- 
ing. 


159 


The old man set it on his knees, took the key 
of it, opened the lock, and turned the cover up- 
on its hinges. 

There was only a pair of small pistols inside 
the box ; they were richly inlaid with damask 
and precious work. 

‘ Tt is Madame de Noirmou tiers who has given 
them to me,” said the old man with the same 
clear voice, passing his lean lingers along the 
ban-els of the weapons. 

He drew one up from its receptacle and play- 
ed with its pliant and strong spring. 

‘ ‘ She gave them to me at the time of our mar- 
riage,” continued he, “to deliver me from an 
enemy in case of an attack : it was then an un- 
availing precaution, because there are to-day no 
more enemies ; friends have replaced them.” 

The old man concentrated his shining looks 
upon M. de Varny, and his lips uttered a low 
laugh, acute as the noise of a file upon a. saw. 

“ They are loaded,” added he cocking them 
once more. “There is here in this tube so well 
ornamented, a bullet ready to kill the strongest 
young man, the most handsome cavalier of 
Naples.” 

And still laughing with his sardonic laugli, 


160 


lie turned the weapon towards Lucien’s fore- 
head who was standing motionless and mute in 
his presence, following all his motions, hearing 
all his words with a shudder. 

Suddenly the old man, by a supreme effort, 
rose up. Lucien saw the black tube of the pistol 
two feet from his forehead. 

If I was to kill you, M. de Yarny, would it 
not be my right V ^ said the old man in a low voice. 

It would be your right,” said the secretary 
of embassy, more pale than the statues of Paros, 
but as unshaken as they. 

M. de Noirmoutiers maintained a terrible si- 
lence for an instant, the pistol at the level of 
Lucien’ s forehead who was standing inclined but 
steady before him. A sinister thought seemed 
to pass like a flash over his livid face, then he 
lowered his arms and fell again upon his arm- 
chair with a burst of mocking laughter. 

Lucien raised his head. 

^‘It would be a melodrama, sir,” said the 
marquis, ‘‘and for a gentleman it would be 
very bad taste. I do not love enough to hate, 
and I leave to Madame de Noirmoutiers the task 
to avenge me.” 

Lucien shuddered ; the words of the marquis 
penetrated into his heart like the cold blade of 
a knife. 


161 


He was still standing np when a curtain was 
opened, and Madame deNoirmou tiers’ head ap- 
peared through the fold of velvet. She stopped 
: for an instant, astonished at the glance Lucien 
threw toward her. 

' But the marquis, with the tact of a man used 
to all emergencies, saluted her graciously with 
a gesture. 

‘^Come to me, my dear friend,” said he, ‘‘I 
I was willing to leave M. de Yarny a souvenir of 
I my gratitude, and I have chosen this box. It 
will be doubly precious to him because, having 
, belonged to me, it originally came from you.” 

I Lucien took the articles from the hands of 
1 the implacable old man. When he left the hotel, 
it seemed to him that in place of a heart he had 
I a devouring fire in his breast. 

A few days afterwards the marquis de Noir- 
moutiers died. 

! 

t 

j Madame d’Astouans prolonged her stay in 
I Naples, the pure air of the place strengthening 
her health which had become impaired by the 
I climate of Paris. Madame de Noirmoutiers, who 
met her leaning on Lucien’ s arm, and who knew 
that he acted as cavalier to her in her excur- 


162 


sions, attributed his presence at her house to a 
cause which M. de Yarny was vainly striving 
against. 

“If you do not love her, ’’ she said to him, 
“you should have already given up an intimacy 
which offends me.” 

“Do you wish then, that in order to please 
your fancy, I should be guilty of an ingratitude 
which would cut me to the heart ? Are you ig- 
norant of what her father, M. de Yillaines, has 
done for me T ’ **“ 

“I have nothing to say, if you give to a sen- 
timent proceeding from the heart the name of 
fancy.” 

“ It is really you who speak ? Let me give this 
name to all that survives between us ! ” exclaim - 
ed Lucien with a desolate smile. “If I was still 
at the aurora of my illusion, I could call the 
feeling that inspires your words jealousy ; is not 
jealousy the sign of love ? But can you really 
dare to say that you love me to-day, Theresa V ’ 

Madame de Noirmou tiers, who was looking at 
the sparks Hying in the smoke of the fireside, 
rumpled her black dress, shook the carpet from 
her impatient foot, then, carried away by a cruel 
frankness of which she could not control the 
outburst, suddenly exclaimed : 


163 


“What I know, my God ! I love you and I 
forget yon, according to the days ! Are we real- 
ly masters of our own hearts? You are dear to 
me and yet you are not alive here, in this soul, 
those infinite desires and aspirations without 
name besiege. I love you, and yet other images 
are floating in my memory ; I do not love you, 
and nevertheless I am jealous and I dread the 
thought that your love can forsake me.^’ 

Lucien, at those words, turned pale. 

“Pride! pride!” murmured he in a dull 
voice. 

Then Madame de Noirmou tiers precipitated 
herself on his neck, clasped him in her arms, and 
a kiss carried away the sufferings of Lucien as a 
xephyr does the dead leaves. 

Then, the following day, a similar scene would 
be repeated. 


Whilst these things were occurring, M. Shel- 
don was working patiently to sap the empire of 
Lucien, already so nearly shaken. As a smart 
man and a cool calculator, he fully understood 
that this weary tormenting passion would only 
require a safe pretext to die. This pretext he tried 
to find in that which mostly preoccupied Ma- 


164 


dame de Noirmou tiers’ mind, the connection of 
M. de Varny with Madame d’Astonans. 

With indomitable patience, he was watching 
for an occasion when the vanity of Madame de 
Noirmoutiers might be aroused. The unglutted 
anger of LaToresilla served him marvellously in 
this affair. Very dexterously he presented to 
her a possibility of revenging herself upon the 
forgetfulness of her lover by snatching Madame 
de Noirmou tiers from him, and one night while 
searching her desk, to whet his mischievous de- 
sires, he laid his hand on a note from the text 
of which the meaning he wished to attach to it 
could be drawn. It was from Lucien, addressed 
to LaToresilla. She allowed him to take it, and 
Charles had no more doubt of the victory. 

Lucien, charged with a special mission for 
the king of Naples who was at Palerma, had 
just left on the order of his ambassador. One 
day when Madame d’Astouans was at the mar- 
chioness’ house, Charles presented himself there. 
With the craft of a comedy super, he took ad- 
vantage of the moment when the Parisian lady 
was rising to let fall on the carpet a letter that 
would appear to have been dropped from her 
handkerchief. In returning to her place, Ma- 
dame de Noirmoutiers saw the letter at the foot 


165 


of the arm-cliair that Madame d’ Astouans had 
occupied, and almost immediately Mr. Sheldon 
made an excuse to retire. 

The letter was in an unsealed envelope in- 
scribed with the name of Madame d’ Astouans, 
written by Charles Sheldon after having, nearly 
a whole night, sat copying Lucien’s handwriting, 
letter by letter. A close examination would have 
discovered the fraud, but at first sight the writing 
was calculated to deceive. Mr. Sheldon knew that 
the billet would be read, and so it was. It con- 
tained only a few lines freely written, in which 
Lucien informed LaToresilla of his departure 
from Naples, and announced to her an absence of 
some days. He had composed them at the time of 
his excursion to the castle of the marchioness, in 
the Abril zzo. 

Madame de Noirm on tiers saw in it the ma- 
terial, indisputable proof, of his guilty connec- 
tion jvith Madame d’ Astouans. Had Lucien not 
started the eve before for Palerma ? 

She did not take the trouble to reflect on the 
style of the billet, and her injured vanity brought 
up the consequences that Mr. Sheldon expected 
from it. 

Lucien stopped longer than he had anticipat- 
ed in Palerma. They were then at the ciilminat- 


166 


ing point of tlie famous business of the sulphurs, 
and the notes were flying about from the em- 
bassies to the Neapolitan cabinet. M. de Yarny, 
who could not withdraw his thoughts from 
Toledo street, was striving in the midst of the 
confounded entanglements of the conferences 
and of protocols, to conclude his labors and re- 
turn ; but it did not depend upon him to make 
things go quicker. Diplomacy is not accustom- 
ed to expedite matters. However the flrst sec- 
retary of the French legation having started for 
Sicily with some new instructions, Lucien was 
called back to Naples. 

The night was advanced when he arrived 
there. As he started by the boat charged with 
correspondence, he could not instruct Madams 
de Noirmoutiers of his return. 

His flrst care, was to hasten to the Toledo 
street mansion. The marchioness had started 
for the villa Orso. Lucien jumped on a horse 
and rushed at full speed to see her. 

At the flrst avowal of their love, Madame de 
Noirmoutiers had given to Lucien a key of the 
green door which connected the exterior gardens 
beneath the villa’s portico. 

“ It is there you have exposed your life to 
save me,” she had said to him, “ let this key re- 
ward you.” 


167 


Lucien left his horse at the osteria, and he 
made but one step to reach the door. The moon 
was shining sweetly on the country, the soft per- 
fumes of the waters and of the hills were float- 
ing in the air. Lucien saw the door between 
the genets and the tamarinds ; panting, he 
slipped into the garden, but exhausted with 
emotion, his forehead burning, he rested on a 
bench, and supported his head, in which a thou- 
sand contrary thoughts were eddying, upon the 
marble feet of a white divinity ; the beatings of 
his heart swelled his breast, when in the midst 
of the silence the faint sound of a key turning 
in a lock caused him to start up. 



Chapter X. 


A lover’s anguish. — Lucien and Charles. — “To-morrow, we will 
fight!” — Every medal has two faces. — On the spot. — The death 
of Charles Sheldon. — The bloody haudkercliief. — Lucien at 
Madame de Noirmoutiers’. — Lucien’s farewell to the mar- 
chioness. — A year after. — Lucien turns up again on the BouU- 
vara des Italiens. — An uncle’s deception — Who the devil in- 
vented women?” — The meeting at the ball. — “To-morrow! 
To-morrow !’’ — The last disenchantment. — Madame de Noir- 
moutiers and her uncle, M. c'e Jaure. — The new aspirant. — 
“Lucien?” said she. — “ He is dead! madam.” 

iiciEN listened ; tlie door turned stealthily 
upon its hinges, and some distinct steps 
resounded on the gravel. Between the orange 
trees a swift shadow passed ; it came nearer ; 
Lucien shuddered ; distracted, dazed, he press- 
ed his hands upon his heart to still its terrible 
beatings ; he stooped, looked, and Charles Shel- 
don rapidly presented himself to his eyes, smil- 
ing and triumphant. 

A deep thrill passed through Lucien’ s body; 
a mist came before his eyes ; his face exuded a 
cold perspiration; he reeled, as Charles was about 
to disappear under the balcony. Tlie blind half- 
opened, but suddenly M. de Varny sprang for- 
ward and laid his hand on the arm of Charles 
Sheldon. 

Charles stepped back and drew his dagger 



169 


the steel of which glistened between them ; bnt 
j having recognized Lucien his arm fell. 

“M. deVarny ! ” said he. “What the devil 
prevented you speaking ? I came near killing 
you.” 

Lucien was livid ; his hand pressed Charles- 
arm. Anger, despair, hate, stifled his voice. 

Charles, with the exquisite grace of a gentle- 
man, pointed out to him the blind that was 
moving. 

“ I believe you have something to tell me, M. 
de Varny,” said Charles ; “I await your orders, 
but let us talk in the shade and very low.” 

They went behind a cluster of pomegranete- 
trees. 

“I listen to you,” said Charles. 

“You know where that pathway leads to,, 
Mr. Sheldon ; you know who is waiting at this^ 
balcony?” said at last M. de Varny with a voice 
which passed through his lips as the rattle in the 
throat of a dying man. “ It is you who are ex- 
pected there ? ” 

‘ ‘ Discretion is a virtue ; but I shall not make 
any mystery with you of a thing that you have 
guessed. ’ ’ 

“ She loves you ? ” 

“ I do not know anything of it ; but appear- 


ances would permit me to believe it, if, in such 
an affair, wisdom did not command us to always 
doubt.’’ 

“ She loves you ! ’ ’ continued Lucien distract- 
edly. ‘‘ She ! Theresa ! ” 

“Oh I do not take it so hard, my dear fel- 
low, you do not then remember what I told you 
about this subject ? — I have waited.” 

Lucien endured a terrible torture ; his knees 
were trembling ; while his impassive companion 
looked on smiling. 

“ I was proposing to myself to inform you on 
your return,” muttered he, “but, you arrive 
like a comet, in the very midst of events ! It is 
an unpardonable imprudence.” 

Lucien passed his hand over his forehead ; 
his will made a powerful effort to escape from 
the delirious thoughts buzzing in his brain, and 
then in a serious and calm voice, he replied : 

“To-morrow sir, my friends will be at your 
house.” 

“Are you joking, my dear fellow 1 ” 

“To-morrow, we will fight! and one of us 
must fall.” 

Charles remained silent ; he looked at Lucien 
for a short time in the moonlight ; his face was 
as a mask of alabaster. He shrugged his shoul- 


171 


ders, mumbled a few words between liis teeth,, 
then smiled : 

“ If you are so much resolved on it, my dear 
M. de Y arny, we will slaughter each other. But, 
upon my soul, I did not believe in this age we 
could be induced to act so foolishly.” 

‘ ‘ I have your word ? ” 

“ I give it to you.” 

‘‘ By to-morrow, then ! ” 

‘ ‘ By to-morrow, let it be ! ” 

The two young men saluted each other. 
Charles coquettishly took the road to the villa, 
Lucien directed his stejDS to the green door. 

‘‘By my word of honor, he is a fool ! ” said 
Charles. ‘ ‘And I w^ho believed him to be a man of 
wit ! ” 

Lucien staggered like one whose senses had 
forsaken him. He walked at hazard into the 
country, wandering here and there, distracted, 
panting, anguish in his heart, fever in his blood;, 
then he fell, exhausted on the sand. When 
he opened his eyes, the shining sun was gleam- 
ing on the sea which was caressing his feet with 
its foamy edge. 

The recollection of the night, invaded his soul. 
He rose up, dipped his drowsy head in the fresh 
waves, threw a last look at the villa which had 


172 


often afforded him so much happiness, and rush- 
ed on the road to Naples. 

Charles Sheldon was waiting. When he saw 
Horace Didier enter, he took him lightly by the 
hand. 

‘ ‘ The night then has not counseled wisdom V ’ 
said he. 

‘‘It appears that you know what message I 
bear?” replied the painter astonished. 

“Of a duel, I imagine.” 

“You save me the expense of a protocol. 
You see in me the second of our friend Lucien, 
who is extremely desirious of getting rid of 
you.” 

“ I am ready for his orders.” 

“So, you accept ?” 

“ I am too much his friend to refuse him so 
light a pleasure.” 

“It is a strange affair I M. de Yarny was 
as white as a sheet when he entered my house 
this morning, I took him for his ghost ; from the 
manner in which he spoke to me, I understood 
that there was no explanation to ask, and I have 
come.” 

“Killed or not, this man wiU not go far. 
There are some people very eager to mislead their 
minds into tragedy, when it will be so easy for 
them to take life as a song ! ” 


173 


While speaking, Mr. Sheldon was complet- 
ing his toilet. 

‘ ‘ So, ’ ’ continued he on going out, ‘ ‘you have 
no knowledge of the cause of this duel ? ’ ’ 

“None, whatever,” replied the artist. 

“ Well, then ! my dear fellow, it means that 
every medal has two faces.” 

“ Oh ! there is a medal ? ” 

“An adorable blonde medal that is called 
Madame de Noirmou tiers.” 

On their way they overtook Max de E-heiss, 
and the three went into the country. On the 
sea-shore, between two promontories, in a soli- 
tary nook, they found Lucien. 

M. de Varny saluted Mr. Sheldon. 

“I have chosen pistols ;” said he, “I hope 
that these arms will suit you.” 

Charles nodded affirmatively. 

“These gentlemen will load the pistols and 
will settle the conditions of the fight ; I care but 
little for them provided it must be well under- 
stood that it will be a duel unto death,” said 
Lucien. 

“Are you very particular about it ? ” replied 
Charles without appearing to be affected. 

“ Is it really you who ask me that ?” 

“Faith ! my dear M. de Yarny, I would have 


174 


you observe that if I had been obliged to fight 
after all the treachery to which I have submit- 
ted, I should not have the pleasure of serving 
your aim to-day.” 

When the weapons were ready, Horace and 
Max placed the rivals at twenty paces from each 
other, with permission to advance within ten 
paces, and give the signal. 

Lucien and Charles advanced a few steps, and 
then their pistols went olf so closely together, 
tliat they were heard only as one report. Char- 
les turned on one leg and fell down on his back. 
Lucien dashed towards him. 

But Max de Rheiss had already raised Char- 
les in his arms ; with a trembling hand he half- 
opened his clothes ; the bullet was lodged full in 
his chest, close by the heart ; some bubbles of air 
were dropping from the gaping wound ; a red 
foam purpled the lips of the dying man. Max 
de Rheiss shook his head ; by these symptoms 
he understood that the lungs were gored. 

Mr. Sheldon sought the hand of M. de Varny 
and pressed it. 

‘ ^ You have done a foolish act, ’ ’ said he speak- 
ing with difficulty; “I pardon you willingly; 
but between ourselves I will tell you that a wo- 
man, and the most beautiful of all, does not de- 


175 


serve that a brave young man should expose his 
life for her. After all, my death will be one 
aureola more to the forehead of Madame deNoir- 
moutiers ; so do not repent you too much for 
what you have done.’’ 

Blood gushed out from his mouth and crim- 
soned the hands of M. de Yarny. 

‘‘My throat burns!” hoarsely cried Mr. 
Sheldon in whose. throat the death rattles were 
distinctly heard. “Here,” added he, taking an 
handkerchief bearing the motto of the marchio- 
ness, pierced by the bullet and reddened with his 
blood; “take her back this souvenir, and tell her 
that, like a knight, I died bearing her colors.” 

Charles again smiled, let his head fall back 
heavily, and expired. 

An hour afterwards, Lucien entei*ed Madame 
de Noirmoutiers’ house. 

She had come back to Naples, perplexed by 
a vague anxiety which a few words let slip by 
Mr. Sheldon had caused her to feel. 

When she saw M. de Yarny appear on the 
threshold of her room, she turned pale fright- 
ened by his pallor and by the gloomy glance he 
threw at her. 

She remained half-reclining on an arm-chair, 


176 


without strength to rise, without voice to inter- 
rogate him. Seized with a deep terror which 
froze her blood, the only manifestations of life 
she gave was by the palpitating of her bosom. 

Lucien, mute, came nearer slowly. 

According as he advanced, the eyes of Ma- 
dame de Noirmoutiers dilated, her shiveled 
hands bent upon the arms of the chair. 

Lucien stopped a short time in front of her, 
then let fall on her knees the bloody handker- 
chief. 

Madame de Noirmoutiers trembled in every 
limb and then rose, uttering a cry of terror. 

‘‘Charles ! ! ! ” she shrieked. 

“ I HAVE KILLED HIM ! ” Said Lucien. 

Madame de Noirmoutiers fell down again up- 
on the arm-chair, livid and senseless. A convul- 
sive trembling agitated her body, her bright eyes 
were without tears. 

Lucien sat dowmin front of her. He was re- 
venged, and yet perhaps he was suifering even 
more than she. Despair was torturing his heart. 
Never had he loved her so much. 

When Madame de Noirmoutiers recovered 
from her state of torpor, Lucien was still stand- 
ing steadily before her ; she lowered her eyes 
and her looks again met the bloody handker- 
chief lying at her feet. 


177 


A sob arose from her breast and tears flow- 
ed abundantly from her eyes. 

At this spectacle, by a reaction which had its 
source in jealousy, Lucien felt all his anger again 
enkindled. 

“You loved him then very much 

“ Oh ! ” said she wringing her hands with a 
gesture full of anguish, and carried away by the 
strange frankness which, in this unsteady char- 
acter, was the only thing that ever remained 
complete, “I do not know myself! Who will 
tell me what I am 1 My heart oscillates, hurried 
away towards everything ! If I was to tell you all, 
my God ! you would scorn me perhaps. Here,” 
added she, her lips curling with a bitter dis- 
dain, “I am arrived at the point that I even 
doubt my own feelings ! Do I love ? do I not love ? 
Do I know this 1 ” 

“Poor heart ! ” said Lucien. “If that is so I 
do not hate you any more ^I pity you ! ” 

At this word the pride of the marchioness 
was shocked ; she tossed her head proudly, and 
cried in an indignant tone : 

“ Pity me ! Oh 1 I much prefer to endure suf- 
fering than pity ! ” 

“ If you don’t want pity, what do you want 
then?” said Lucien to her, at the same time 


178 


pointing with his finger to the red handkerchief 
that she was trampling under her foot. 

Madame de Noirmoii tiers drew back with a 
cry ; and again the tears began to fiow. 

M. de Yarny arose ; a supreme emotion could 
be read in his contracted features. He moyed 
towards the marchioness, took her hand, and 
placed his lips to her pale forehead. 

He felt a trembling in all his being, and hi& 
arms opened as if he was about to take and press 
Madame de Hoirmou tiers to a heart which still 
belonged wholly to her ; but, subduing his love, 
he went quickly backwards. 

‘ ‘ Farewell ! ’ ’ said he, and he walked towards 
the door. 

As he was passing the threshold, Madame do 
Noirmoutiers sat up. 

‘‘Lucien ! ” murmured she as with a dying 
voice. Though her voice was faint, Lucien 
heard it. 

He returned. She was standing up, support- 
ing herself against the marble mantle-piece. The 
mirror refiected her face ; in her grief, with her 
wet eyes and the fine hair plaited in wreaths on 
a white forehead pure and clear as the alabas- 
ter, she was as beautiful as Niobe. But she had 
undoubtedly remarked it, because she was car- 


179 


essing her picture with the look and her slender 
hand was playing with the ribbons at her waist. 

“Farewell ! ” said Lucien again, and he dis^ 
appeared. 

An hour afterwards, his resignation had reach- 
ed the embassy, and the same night he started 
for Paris. 




One year later, M. de Yarny could still be y 
met on the Boulevard des Italims, going and 
I coming between the frontier of his empire of 
: three hundred steps. As formerly, the /ar 
niente had reconquered him, and as formerly he 
was living au jour le jour with the Boheme of 
Paris. M. de Yillaines, whom the resignation 
of his nephew had at first extremely angered, 
appeased himself little by little and continued 
to establish the equilibrium constantly compro- 
mised in his annual budget. He sometimes chid- 
ed him but waited, believing in the future to 


180 


renew the diplomatic chain so violently broken. 
Madame d’Astouans, to whom Lucien had avow- 
^ed all, displayed a greater and more sweet af- 
fection for a cousin who knew how to love so 
profoundly. Perhaps it would not have been 
necessary to Lucien to make a strong effort to 
^ive a more tender character to this affection, 
but he did not even think of it, and Madame 
d’Astouans, although in the bottom of her heart 
a little nettled at his constant faithfulness to a 
remembrance, made herself his patroness to her 
father and his advocate in the world. 

Some reports of his adventures at Naples had 
penetrated into the Parisian drawing-rooms. 
They had been much spoken of, and as they had 
been embellished, as is the custom with mar- 
vellous accounts, Lucien found himself without 
his knowledge suirounded by a romantic and 
mysterious glory which made him welcome in all 
the houses where M. de Villaines compelled him 
to go. It would have been easy for him to play 
the part of a Lara or a Rohan ; but, to tell the 
truth, he cared but little about it, having never 
had any ambition in his life. 

In short, his existence was in all respects 
similar to that which he had led before his de- 


181 


parture for Naples. A more continual and seri- 
ous sadness could only be noticed in him, a sort 
of calm and pensive dejection, which made those 
who had his confidence say that the spring of • 
his life was broken. 

One day while walking with Horace Didier, 
who, since the death of Mr. Sheldon, had formed 
an intimate friendship with him, Lucien sud- 
denly pressed his arm. 

“ What is it ? ” asked the painter. 

Lucien did not answer ; Horace, seeing him 
dreadfully pale, looked around. 

At this moment a woman was crossing the 
roadway ; and though Horace could only see her 
back, yet with the glance of an artist he did not 
mistake the harmony of the lines and the grace 
of her form, — he recognized Madame de Noir- 
moutiers. 

“ Let us see ! ” said he to Lucien : “do not go 
and do anything foolish, now.” 

“ As you please,” said Lucien, who scarcely 
understood him. 

“Who the devil invented women ! ’ ’ exclaim- 
ed the furious artist in parting with his friend, 
whom he left lost and dazed as a man who had 
put his hand on a torpedo. 


182 


That night there was a ball in a house in the 
Faubourg St. Honor e at which Lucien had given 
his word to be present. He went there with Ma- 
dame d’ Astpuans. As he entered the drawing- 
room, he saw, dancing in the midst of a quad- 
rille, Madame de Noirmoutiers. 

They exchanged a glance, and Lucien felt his 
heart sink within him. 

He hastened to conceal himself in a small 
room where, with his eyes closed and his head 
in his hands, he sat contemplating the radiant 
picture which was floating into his memory as a 
luminous vision in a dark room. 

Whilst thus alone, lost in his thoughts, he 
felt a. light hand sweetly touch his shoulder. 
He raised his head. 

Madame de Noirmoutiers was before him. 

Lucien ! ” said she to him with her divine 
voice. 

“Theresa ! ” murmured he, looking at her 
with a happiness mixed with terror. 

There was so much of fascination in her eyes, 
that the indignation, the hate, the anger fled 
away from the heart of Lucien like mists before 
the rising sun. 

‘ ; Do you love me ? ” asked the marchioness. 

“ Oh ! for God’s sake don’t ask me that ! ” 


183 


said he ; and taking his enchantress’ head in his 
arms, he seemed to concentrate all his love in one 
long, fond kiss. 

Who conld describe what x)assed between 
them ? But as some intruders were interfering 
with their happiness, she escaped leaving him 
with a heart full of a divine promise. 

‘‘To-morrow ! to-morrow ! ” said he to him 
self running on the boulevards, intoxicated, in- 
sane. The past and the present were as noth- 
ing before this word. 

The following day he waited. Hours succeed- 
ed hours. His heart was throbbing with impa- 
tience. Theresa did not come. Towards even- 
ing he went out ; as he was going to her house,, 
he saw pass on the Place de la Concorde^ a ca- 
leche, close by which was prancing a line horse, 
mounted by a young man whose toilet was of an 
irreproachable cut and fashion. Lucien stop- 
ped horrified ; Madame de Noirmoutiers was 
leaning against the coach -door and smiled at the 
young man. 

Here is what had passed.— At tlie time that 
Madame de Noirmou tiers was Mademoiselle de 
Miiiolles, she had for uncle a certain com- 
mander of Malta, who had put all his wealth 


184 


into an annuity to enable him to live comfort- 
ably. Selfish and unfeeling, she found him in 
Paris, as she had left him. He was a man of 
easy habits, of exquisite manners, going much 
into society, where he passed for an excellent 
Epicurian. M. de Jaure had instituted himself 
the protector of his neice and took a sincere plea- 
sure in leading about a pretty woman, whom all 
the young men could not allow to pass without 
turning round to gaze on her. 

About noon tide, whilst Lucien was waiting 
for her, Theresa saw entering her house, M. de 
J aure, who had forced all the doors. 

I fi nd you in a wrapper, ’ ’ said he, ‘ ‘so much 
the better, an undress suits best to speak about 
marriage. 

“ 1 have not time to hear you,” answered she 
a little provoked at seeing him establish himself 
in an arm-chair ; “let us delay serious business 
till to-morrow.” 

“I should think like you, if hymen was a 
grave matter ; but, indeed, notwithstanding my 
good will, the world has forced me to consider 
it as a funny necessity of our social order. It 
is a business that we must talk of laughingly. 
Then, we shalFspeak of it, if you'please.” 


185 


! 


“ But, uncle, I have no inclination to marry 
again ! I swear it to you.” 

“You are mistaken ! ’ ’ retorted he. ‘ ‘A pret- 
ty woman will be too lonely, if she has not some 
one to tease. For a widow, there is no pro- 
hibited fruit, and if you suppress the apple, 
you suppress the pleasure.” 

Madame de Noirmou tiers tried in vain to de- 
fend herself by fretting and pouting ; she had 
however, to hear M. de Jaure to the end. He 
was an agreeable talker. He conducted himself 
so well, mixing jesting with business, that The- 
resa, notwithstanding her impatience, could not 
forbear a laugh. 

When she had laughed, she was half-con- 
quered. 

“It is a gift that I make you,” continued 
the commander taking a pinch of snutf, with the 
grace of a gentleman of the ancient regime. “My 
friend is a young, handsome man, rich and of a 
noble family. Between us, he is not very intel- 
ligent, but that constitutes a precious quality. 
He is auditor at the counsel of State, which en- 
ables him to go to the Tuileries and to the minis- 
ters’ houses. His wife will touch the Chaussee 
d'Antin, the hon ton, by the dress, at the Fau- 
bourg Saint-Germain by the name. Marry him, 


186 


and yon will be forever indebted to me. I have- 
a great inclination to possess a small nephew to 
bequeath him my experience and advices in de- 
fault of the wealth I no longer have.” 

M. de Jaure, having finished his speech, set- 
tled himself as if he had a right to introduce the 
pretender. 

If the reader finds that, for a selfish man, 
he was interfering much with the business of 
others, his surprise will not be so great on 
learning that the auditor was his God-son, and 
that, to divert himself, the commander had re- 
solved to help him to make a fortune without it 
costing him anything. 

The auditor brought an admission ticket 
for a ball for the benefit of the pensioners of 
the old civil list. It was accepted, and the con- 
versation turned on the new fashions and the 
anecdotes of the day. In these matters, M. le 
count de Bergot gave proof of great erudition. He 
talked much, and he sprinkled his conversation 
with the golden sand of flattery ; he excelled 
so well in turning a compliment, that Madame 
de Noirmoutiers was dazzled with him. It was 
a brilliant succession of eulogistic epithets. The 


187 




lioiirs flew on, and Theresa started for tlie Bois 
de Boulogne^ singing like a linnet. Perhaps she 
intended to postpone the execution of her pro- 
mise to the following day ! Perhaps also she 
forgot it ! 

Lucien returned to his home. He no longer 
felt himself suffering ; he had in his ears a noise 
as when we plunge the head into water. 

He hastily wrote a few words ; he smiled in 
giving them to his servant, and the honest man, 
supposing that it was a question of good fortune, 
thought in himself what very happy people mas- 
ters were. 

Carried away by her uncle, Madame de Noir- 
moutiers dined in town. When she re-entered 
to make her toilet, she was so huiTied that she 
postponed till the next day the reading of her 
correspondence. 

^ The following day, at noon, she took a 
fancy to open her letters ; she read the note of 
Lucien: she hastily threw a shawl over her 
shoulders, and alone, on foot, dashed into the 


188 


streets of Paris, running directly towards ttie re- 
sidence of M. de Varny. 

Just as she was stepping over the threshold, 
some one seized her by the arm and stopped her. 
It was Horace Didier. 

Lucien ? ” queried the marchioness. 

“He is dead ! madam.” — 








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EPILOGUE. 


What became ot the marchioness? — Grief; — illness; — convales- 
; ence ; — resignation ; — consolation ; — forgetfulness and — mar- 
riage of Madame de Noirmoutiers. — The latest concerts and the 
first lilacs. 

f F there are now any of onr readers curious 
to know what became of the marchioness, 
'it will be easy for us to tell them in a few words. 

' It would be impossible to express the grief 
into which the death of Lucien plunged Madame 
ide Noirmoutiers. 

i 

I Horace brought her back to her house in a 
bed in a hysterical state^ and 


Yainting condition. 
Tliey put her in 


192 


for twenty -four hours she lay convulsed in tears 
and sobs. 

As soon as she could raise herself, she ener- 
getically declared that she would put on mourn- 
ing .^ — and she did it effectively. 

A good friend reprimanded her on this prank; 
but as black made her look ravishing, Madame 
de Noirmon tiers held out, and wore it — three or 
four days — incognito. 

After a fortnight, by molent pressing., they ' 
succeeded in conducting her — to the concert. 

At the end of three weeJcs^ she was kind 
enough to agree to make a little toilet to go — 
to the opera ; 

And the month was not completely past be- I 
fore she was dancing at — a ball. 

It is true that the ball was given at the Aus- 
trian embassy, and that it was only an — after ' 
breakfast dance. 

M. le count de Bergot made himself very as- 
siduous in his attentions to Madame de N oirmou- 
tiers at — the Carnival time ; 


193 


Which fact some persons commented on — 
during Lent 

They loved each other — at the Latest Con- 
certs; and got married — at First which 

is to say, at Easter, 


THCE ElSriD- 




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CONTENTS. 


( HAITEK FIRST ! Page 5. 

The Boulevard des Italiens and its fVeciiienters. — Lucien de 
Ahiriiy; his character and relations. — Uncle and Ne])hew. — A 
curious hook. — Lucien accepts an office; causes of his decision. — 
From Paris to Naples. — The broken axle-tree. — The Arms of 
England Inn. 

CHAPTER II 21. 

At table, and what was said. — Relation of the strange adven- 
ture of Don Hermenegildo Saria. — The joyous guests. — The 
American Charles Sheldon.— “ A^ou are mistaken, gentlemen.” — 
The i)resentation. — M. le manjuis de Xoirmontiers. — The mar- 
quis relates the finale of’ the Don Hermenegildo story. — The 
feuilletonist against his will. — -The marquis’ farewell. — Lucien 
continues the interruj)ted trip. — The carriage accident. 

CHAPTER HI 8S. 

Lucien makes IMadame de Xoirmontiers’ acquaintance. — 'Phe 
invitation. — A few woj-ds on M. and Madame de Xoirmontiers. — 
The marchioness’ character., — Lucien’s first visit to the marchio- 


108 


ness. — Tlie impromptu ball. — A game of cards by two officers, — 
The stakes. — Madame de ISToirmoutiers leaves Naples for the villa 
Oi-so. — Lucien and the two Neapolitans. 

CHAPTER IV Page 59. 

Lucien’s anxieties. — A night expedition on the Bay of Nap- 
les. — The plot. — The two cavaliers. — Peppe the goatherd. — The 
encounter and the colloquy which followed. — Lead against Steel. 
— The pro vocation. — The two cavaliers’ arrival. — The pretext and 
cause. — The duel. 

CHAPTER V 74. 

Charles Sheldon’s portrait.— At San Carlo.— Intimate con- 
versation between Lucien and Madame de Noirmoutiers. — A dan- 
gerous word. — Madame d’Astouans’ letter to her cousin Lucien. 
— What was said concerning the marchioness during the evening 
party which took place at the palace of the Prince of Cassaro. — . 

“ Have you any enemies?”— A perfidious note.— Lucien escapes 
from death. — The bandit Gaspard. — Lucien at the marchioness’ 
house.— The avowal.— An original lover.— “ Give me my equal i 
and I will love.” — Nothing and all. 1 

CHAPTER VI 95 j 

What LaToresilla was. — A meeting of friends. — Lucien em- j 
barks in a strange enterprise.— The actress’ balcony.— How Lu- 
cien’s adventure ended.— “ Gentlemen, breakfiist!” 


199 


CHAPTER VII Page 113. 

The day after the victory.— Conversation between Madame de 
Noirinontiers and Rafael Rasconti. — In the Abruzzo. — Thestorm; 
the hostelry; the bandits. — The aspect of the osteria. — The artist 
Horace Didier and An encounter in the Abruzzo. — Madame de 
Noirinontiers sings with success the Puritani cavatina, — The 
higliwayraan Giacomo’s justice. — Rafael Rasconti re-appears. — 
Departure from the Abruzzo. — The dangers of the road. — Gas- 
pard and Rafael; the latter’s deatli. — The re-entry in Naples. 

CHAPTER VIII 134. 

^ladame de Noirmoutiers discovers how dear Lucien is to 
her. — “ To wait and act.” — Lucien’s letter to the marchioness. — 
Visit to villa Orso.— Peppe’s confession.— Lucien prepares to go. 
— Madame de Noirmoutiers at Lucien’s house. — Why M. de 
Varny did not go. — Lucien’s love for the marchioness. — His pre- 
sentiments. — “Oh ! wish not for such a love, it kills !” — M. de 
Noirmoutiers’ illness. 

CHAPTER IX 152. 

The marchioness’ absence. — Arrival at Naples of M. de Noir- 
moutiers, M. and Madame d’Astouans.— The beginning of a 
mysterious drama. — Madame de Noirmoutiers and Madame d’As- 
touans. — Sequel to the mysterious drama. — The pistols.— The end 
of the dim drama. — Death of the marquis de Noirmoutiers. — Joy 
and grief. — Lucien’s absence from Naples. — Charles’ perfidy. 
Lucien’s return. — The villa Orso again. 


200 


CHAPTER X Page 1G8. 

A lover’s anguish. — Lucien and Cliarles. — “To-morrow, we 
will figlit ! ” — Every medal has two faces.— On the spot. — The 
death of Charles Sheldon. — The bloody handkerchief. — Lucien at 
Madame de Noirmoutiers’. — Lucien’s farewell to the marchio- 
ness. — A year after. — Lucien turns up again on the Botdevard des 
/(aliens . — An uncle’s deception — “ Who the devil invented wo- 
men ? ” — The meeting at the hall. — “ To-niorrow ! To-morrow ! ” 
— The last disenchantment. — Madame de Noirmoutiers and her 
uncle, M. de Jaure. — The new aspirant. — “Liu ien?” said she. — 
“ He is dead ! madam. ” 

EPILOGUE 11)1. 

What became of the marchioness? — Grief; — illness; — con- 
valescence ; — resignation ; — consolation ; — forgetfulness and — 
marriage of Madame de Noirmoutiers.— The latest concerts and 
the tirst lilacs. 


EISriD OF COlSTTEIsTTS. 




EE3&^ 


J. V. LISEE, 

DEALEB ni 



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RETAIL DEALERS FOREIGN AND DOMESTIC 





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GtEO. PECK & CO. 

WALTER SPARLING, JOSEPH SPARLING. 



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and. ^^22 Woodward Avenue., Detroit. 



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